


On The Way Back Home

by Feeshies



Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, But he's there - Freeform, Charles is only there for one awkward scene so I'm not tagging him, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, I think that's it - Freeform, Kissing, Neck Kissing, One Night Stands, Porn With Plot, Smut, Themes of Stalking and Online Doxxing - but not within the ship, Under-negotiated Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, choking (briefly)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:47:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27784729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feeshies/pseuds/Feeshies
Summary: After the events of Dethdinner, Abigail is forced to leave town after the hate from Dethklok fans becomes too intense.  On the way, she crosses paths with someone who was also wronged by the band.Alternate summary:  Abigail and Magnus fuck and for some reason it's 22k words long.
Relationships: Magnus Hammersmith/Abigail Remeltintdrinc
Comments: 16
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

It was supposed to be the gig that made her career. Not the one that ended it.

Abigail could still remember the day she heard from Crystal Mountain Records that she would be working with Dethklok. The excitement she felt was naive in hindsight, but it was pure. She already had music journalists celebrating her for her production work or her ability to manage the big personalities of various band members, but she saw being able to produce an album with Dethklok as a sign that she truly made it. Being able to work with, not just the most popular band in the world, but the most popular musical, economic, and cultural force in the world. It became the subject line of many “I told you so” emails.

It wasn’t like she came into the job unprepared. She was well aware of the band members’ reputations. She knew they could be hard to work with. She knew they were hedonistic. She knew they were used to being worshiped. Abigail had plenty of experience working with these types of personalities. Dethklok was just a more extreme version of her previous jobs. She had the experience, the talent, and the perseverance to carve this album into whatever shape Crystal Mountain Records wanted.

Of course she was frustrated with the band members for trying to sleep with her, but it wasn’t like she wasn’t used to this behavior either. After all, she spent most of her previous gigs working with mostly male-dominated genres of music. Looking back at her career history, she could count on one hand the number of times when she  _ wasn’t  _ the only woman in the room.

Abigail had one personal rule: don’t fuck anyone you work with. This rule turned out to be easy to follow. Most of the musicians she worked with weren’t nearly as alluring as they believed they were. If any of the Dethklok groupies saw the band in their natural state or had to manage their production process, they’d think twice before trying to get backstage.

But the submarine recording session took a toll on everyone. Maybe it was the pent-up frustration of going without sex for so long. Maybe the change in pressure was having a physiological effect on her. Maybe she should have packed extra AA batteries. Regardless of the cause, she shouldn’t have let the lead singer of Dethklok eat her out in the recording studio. It was a lapse of judgment on her part and she would take full responsibility for that mistake.

However, she would not take responsibility for the outcome.

She hoped that Nathan would be the type of guy to see her as just another notch in his belt, so she could finish her job and move on. But no, he kept trying to contact her. Which put her in the unenviable position of having to ghost the lead singer of the most popular music act in the world. She managed to carry on her business as usual, but in the back of her head she knew that he had the power to change her reputation in the music industry to “the producer who fucks her clients”, and there was no recovering from that.

But the true catalyst was the dinner. At first, she was looking forward to this event, as it would be the last moment she would ever have to be seen with Dethklok. One dinner. Just one, stuffy record industry event. She had been to countless functions like this in the past. All she had to do was power through.

Of course, it was never going to be easy for her.

Nathan publicly announcing their “relationship” shocked and humiliated Abigail to the point where she almost didn’t register that Pickles quit the band in a jealous rage. When she got home and the reality of what just happened finally set in, she sent an email to Offdensen, asking if this was normal behavior for the drummer. He never responded. He never responded to her follow ups either. No one from Dethklok contacted her.

Then she went online and found out that the band had broken up.

And that’s when her problems truly began.

First came the hate messages and death threats, which she sadly had a lot of experience shrugging off. It came with the territory of being, not just a woman in a male-dominated industry, but a woman of color in a white male-dominated industry. Most of the time, these idiots online were too cowardly to send the hate to her directly, opting instead to share their grievances in the comment section of whatever article she was featured in. But less than a day after Dethklok’s breakup was made public, her work email was unusable.

The media jumped on her too. Turns out that having the reputation of “the producer who fucks her clients” was not the worst case scenario for her. Instead, she was framed as “the woman who killed Dethklok”, “the woman who destroyed the friendship of Nathan and Pickles”, “the woman who single-handedly tanked one of the largest economies in the world”, titles which only fed to the hate mob steadily growing online. Although, Abigail knew it was naive to assume that they could only be contained by the internet.

But somehow the worst part, worse than the hate, worse than the media speculating about her personal life, worse than the online hate mob digging up her past, was the silence. Crystal Mountain Records stopped returning her calls and any trace of her existence was removed from their website. They didn’t even have the decency to let her know if she was being fired or not.

No one in Dethklok reached out either. She tried to get into contact with Offdensen, hoping that he could give her some pointers in navigating this scandal, but she never received a response. It made sense, as she assumed he was too busy trying to put out the fires started by his own band. Shame he wouldn’t return her emails, because this felt like something they had in common.

With no work coming in and no love from the world, Abigail figured that her best bet would be to keep away from the internet, stay inside, and wait for the storm to pass.

Then some idiot leaked her full address.

It happened a week later, which apparently wasn’t enough time for the rabid fans to get over the breakup. She thought things would have died down by then (mistake 1). She turned her phone back on (mistake 2) and opened Twitter (mistake 3), and there it was. 

A tweet listing her full address, including photos of her modest apartment. Abigail’s body went cold and her stomach churned as she clicked through the photos, all taken from across the street in broad daylight. The terracotta pots outside the front door, her dying herb garden roasting on the balcony railing, her silhouette visible through the thin curtains. It was all there, all for everyone in the world to see and share.

Abigail let the phone fall from her hand as she collapsed back onto her bed. The walls around her no longer felt solid. She no longer had the luxury of privacy. Anyone could find her. Her breath tangled up in her throat when she remembered what particularly-dedicated Dethklok fans were capable of. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for her breathing to even out. She could no longer afford to think about how unfair or sexist this whole situation was. The time for that was long over. Now, this was about survival.

“You’re busy - I get that. But this is  _ your _ band and I’m being eaten alive out here!” Abigail paced around her room as she bombarded Offdensen with another voicemail message. Hey, he was the one who never responded to her emails. “So please, please call me back. I just...I just need someone in my corner, okay?”

The message was sent and Abigail wasted no time returning to the internet. She needed to keep tabs on what this hate mob was doing, was the justification she gave herself. But there was something horrifyingly addictive about reading through these threads. Thousands of people were saying her name, and she never felt more alone.

Offdensen never responded and the sun was starting to set. Her first night in an apartment that no longer felt safe. Abigail groaned and pounded the wall with her fist.

“Fuck it.”

She yanked her old suitcases out of the depths of her closet and began packing. Only the essentials. Anything that could be replaced later wasn’t important. As she packed, she had her phone crammed between her shoulder and ear. It was obvious by that point that expecting a response from Offdensen was a lost cause. But hopefully, she had someone else she could rely on.

After a few nerve-racking moments of silence, a groggy woman’s voice came through the speaker.

“Hello?”

The phone almost slipped off Abigail’s shoulder.

“Mom?” Her voice caught in her throat. Whenever she rehearsed this moment in her head, she always sounded so strong and confident. Now, it was impossible not to sound like the frightened lost woman she was.

“Abigail?” She sounded more awake. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Everything Abigail planned on saying disappeared from her mind. All she could focus on was holding back her tears and staying away from the windows. “Is it okay if I stay with you? Not for too long, I just need...I need to get out of the house.”

“Oh, of course.” A pause. “You’re not in trouble, are you?”

The truth tangled up inside her gut.

“I didn’t do anything wrong. Just got mixed up in some celebrity gossip.”

Abigail heard her mother sigh. She could practically see her clicking her tongue and shaking her head.

“I keep telling you. You’re too good for those big-name labels. You should be using your talents for something with more...artistic significance.”

Abigail managed to laugh, but it sounded more like a strangled sob.

“Well, I might have to consider that now. Since I think I lost my job at Crystal Mountain.”

“Thank lord.”

“Good to know I have your support, mom.” She pressed her knee against the top of her suitcase so she could zip it shut. “I’ll drive over tonight.”

“You’re not taking a plane?”

“It’s only a seven hour drive. I have some books on tape.”

Another pause, this one much longer. Abigail sat down on her packed suitcases and took the opportunity to gaze around her apartment. When she came back, would it still look the same? Or will it have been torn to shreds by enraged Dethklok fanatics? That’s assuming if she decided to come back at all.

At long last, her mother responded.

“I’ll get the room ready for you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus actually appears in this one.

Abigail didn’t think, she just drove. Drove until she left the perimeter of the city. Drove until her headlights were the only thing visible on the empty road. Drove until the reality of her decision finally dawned on her.

She pulled over to the side of the road, slammed her forehead against the top of the steering wheel, and screamed. There was no point in trying to look composed anymore. There was no one around to see or hear her. At least, not at that moment. It was only a matter of time before her license plate got leaked as well.

All the more reason to keep moving, but as Abigail rested with her head pressed against the steering wheel, her exhaustion finally caught up with her. There was no way she could make the whole drive that night. She allowed herself to close her eyes for a few seconds, but she wanted more. However, she was not going to let herself fall asleep on the side of some abandoned road. She took a deep breath, cranked her audiobook up to max volume, and kept moving forward.

Fortunately, there was a motel that wasn’t too far away. Unfortunately, the moment the owner saw her, suddenly the office was closed. He wasn’t subtle about it either. He took one look at her through the window, grimaced, then shut the blinds. It was impossible to escape Dethklok’s fanbase, apparently. Or perhaps the band’s breakup had a negative effect on the motel business. Abigail didn’t see how the two correlated, but considering how many pies the band’s business had their hands in, she wouldn’t have been surprised.

After returning to her car, Abigail locked the doors and turned the key in the ignition, but she didn’t take the car out of park. She let out a shaky breath as she fished her phone out of her pocket. All of her notifications were clogged. Thousands of incoming calls, voicemails, and texts. Her phone number must have been leaked too. Fantastic.

Abigail scrolled through the sea of unknown numbers in the hopes that someone legitimate was trying to reach out to her, but to no avail. She pressed the side of her face against the window, the glass was so cold against her skin that it stung. In the window’s reflection, she could see her phone lighting up, notifying her of more incoming messages. She tossed the phone into the passenger’s seat. There was no way she was going to sleep in her car that night.

The nearest gas station and convenience store didn’t kick her out, at least. But she wasn’t given the warmest welcome either. A tinny pre-recorded bell chime sounded through the brightly-lit store as she stepped inside. Through the corner of her eye, Abigail noticed the cashier do a double take at the sight of her. He whispered something to a customer, another man standing near the magazine rack, his arms crossed firmly over his chest. Abigail kept her head lowered so she didn’t get a good look at him, but she could feel his glare burning into her. Apparently this was just what her life was going to be like.

She grabbed a plastic basket and made a beeline for the beverage coolers and began browsing through the energy drinks. As she examined the neon-colored cans she caught a glimpse of her worn-down face in the reflection of the glass door, and a wave of nostalgia crashed over her. Being in a random convenience store this late at night, buying energy drinks while wearing an old sweater and a ratty pair of jeans. It made her feel ten years younger, when she was back in grad school, cramming for exams. Everything felt so important to her back then. She put herself through physical and psychological strain, out of hope that if she did everything perfectly, it would all work out in the future. She really didn’t know anything.

Abigail was thrown out of her thoughts when she noticed another reflection in the glass: a man browsing through the beers in the next case over. He was tall, with graying curly dark brown hair falling past his shoulders. He didn’t seem to notice Abigail’s presence, as he was too preoccupied scanning through the shelves, his gaunt face frozen in a sneer. When she looked closer at his face, she noticed that while his right eye was dark and piercing, his left eye was a cloudy white. 

As he knelt to examine the lower shelves, his long goatee brushed against his...bare chest. For some reason, he wore his black denim shirt open with nothing underneath. Abigail didn’t know why, as the weather outside did not seem appropriate for such a look. Although, she was hard-pressed to imagine any type of weather that would call for this fashion choice. Maybe he couldn’t stand the idea of the world not getting to appreciate his scrawny torso.

In the reflection, the man’s eyes darted towards her and Abigail felt her entire blood freeze over. She opened the case and began piling energy drinks into her basket at random. 

She had enough experience in the industry to know that it was unfair to assume that any long-haired man in dark clothing was automatically a Dethklok fan. If details like that were that easy to pinpoint, market research departments across the globe would crumble. She’d met waspy, midwestern moms who only listened to danger music and she’d seen some of the scariest-looking people in her life lining up to buy the most bubblegum-y pop records she’d ever produced. Fans can look like anything. She had no reason to assume that this man was a Dethklok fan.

But she also had no reason to assume that he  _ wasn’t _ a fan, which is why she began picking up the pace as she headed for the cashregister. Right after stopping to scoop some bags of chips into her basket, of course.

The cashier seemed to be deep in conversation with the man at the magazine rack, but they came to an abrupt stop when they noticed Abigail approach. She kept her head lowered as she unloaded her energy drinks and snacks onto the counter and fished her wallet out of her pocket.

As she thumbed through her cash, she heard the magazine man scoff.

“That Dethklok’s money?

Abigail tensed up.

“Excuse me?” 

_ Why the fuck did you respond?! _

“We know who you are, okay? It’s fucked up that you’d ruin their lives like that, then take the money and run.”

Abigail took a step back out of instinct, only to bump into something behind her - or someone. She jerked her head around and froze when she saw the long-haired man from the beverage coolers. His height was much more intimidating when he was no longer just a reflection in a glass door, but a towering physical presence standing right behind her.

The cashier, meanwhile, seemed to be taking his sweet time checking out her items, so Abigail decided to focus her attention on him instead.

“Do you take cash?” She tried to keep her voice level, but the words jumbled together in her throat as she twisted her wallet around in her hands.

“Hey, Yoko!” The magazine man interrupted. “I was talking to you!”

Abigail looked over her shoulder at the other man behind her and noticed he was only carrying a single six-pack of beer.

“You can go ahead of me, if you want.” She offered, hoping that if he moved in front of her, he could act as a barrier between her and the other man. “You have less items.”

He glanced at her items sprawled out on the counter, then looked back at her. His expression unchanged.

“I’m good.”

“Oh.” Abigail hated how small her voice sounded.

“The production on the last album sucked, by the way.” Magazine Man’s rant continued. “Everyone knows you were just a diversity hire.”

_ Please.  _ Abigail mentally pleaded with the cashier.  _ Just put the items in the bag. Please let me leave. _

At long last, the cashier bagged the items and gave her the total. Abigail slapped a couple large bills down on the counter and grabbed her bags without bothering to wait for her change.

Abigail pushed her way through the doors and ran into the parking lot. All she needed to do was get to her car. She repeated this in her head like a mantra.  _ Get to your car. Get to your car. Get to your car. _

She stopped in place, the plastic bags almost slipping off of her arms.

Oh shit. There was a man near her car.

In the dim parking lot light, she couldn’t make out a lot of detail. But the shadowy figure kneeling near her liscence plate was enough to send her mind into a frenzy - a frenzy that only got worse when she saw the figure take a picture of her plate numbers.

Her entire body trembled. What was she supposed to do? Call the authorities? How could she do that without drawing attention to herself? Was the law still on her side? All she could do was stand in place as she watched someone gather the means to make her life a living hell.

The plastic bag crinkled when she moved her arm. The man by the car went still.

_ Shit. _

Even after being noticed, Abigail still couldn’t bring herself to move. The man didn’t look terribly imposing, but that didn’t provide her with any reassurance. It didn’t matter how intimidating this man did or didn’t look, she was not emotionally ready to fight for her life in a gas station parking lot.

“Um,” her voice cracked and her eyes darted around in search of the best direction to run.

“It’s you.” The venom in his voice caused her heart to sink into her stomach. It was one thing to read it online, but to be faced with this attitude in person…

Abigail didn’t have time to think further about that, because the man was charging at her. In a panic, she threw her plastic bag to the side and tried to run to her car.

That was a mistake. She barely cleared him when the man grabbed her wrist in an iron-clad grip.

“Don’t touch me!” Abigail shrieked as she tried to yank her wrist free. What she really wanted was to kick him in the groin, but she couldn’t risk losing her center of balance.

“So, you’re the bitch who broke up Dethklok.”

Abigail jabbed him with her free elbow as hard as she could, eliciting a pained hiss. But still, the grip on her wrist didn’t loosen. The more she struggled and the more she processed her situation, the more her fear began to fade into a long-dormant rage.

“You know what? Fine, I’m fuckin’ sorry! I’m so sorry that  _ your favorite band _ broke up because of a misunderstanding-”

“The band?” He scoffed. “I don’t give a fuck about the band. But you tank one of the world’s largest economies and expect people to take that lying down? People’s lives were ruined! And someone needs to pay for that.”

It didn’t take long for the fear to return. Her struggling became weaker.

“But I didn’t-” She tried to regain control of her breathing and started over. “I didn’t want this to happen. Please, I’m just as much a victim of the band as you are-”

“Don’t you dare compare yourself to me! You’re-!”

“The fuck’s going on?”

He froze at the sound of a third voice, and Abigail used that as an opportunity to slip out of his grasp. When she turned around, she saw the man from the beverage aisle, with his open denim shirt and the six pack of beer tucked under his arm.

“You know who she is, right?” The man cornering her turned his attention to him. “The one who broke up Dethklok.”

“That so?” There was a strange twinge of humor in his tone, like a parent playing along with a child’s game of pretend.

“Yeah,” he took a step back and paused, glancing back and forth between Abigail and this new third party. “You gonna do something about it?”

“Hadn’t planned on it, no.” He focused on Abigail. “You really broke up Dethklok, huh?”

“No! For the last time, no!” The answer exploded out of her. “Why would I break up a band I’m working with? This is all-!”

Abigail stopped. As satisfying as it was to finally voice this, she still didn’t know where this man stood as far as Dethklok went. But to her surprise, his lips formed a smile, an expression that looked oddly natural on his otherwise intense face.

“You’re alright.” The smile faded as he looked back to the other man. “So, what’s your deal?”

“He was taking pictures of my license plate.” Abigail interjected before he could respond.

“Is that true?” He tilted his head to the side, challenging him to refute it.

“I don’t know why you’re defending her. She-”

“Is it true?” He repeated, his tone harder.

“You have skewed priorities. Fuck this, I’m leaving-”

Abigail was unable to process what happened next. When was the first man knocked to the ground? When did the other man set down his case of beer? Where did he get that knife from?

The first man trembled against the asphalt as he stared at the gleaming blade just inches from his face.

“I’m going to ask again,” the knife man’s voice was surprisingly even for a man who just pulled a blade on someone. “Were you taking pictures of her license plate?”

“Fuck off,” his voice was shaking as violently as his body. “Y-you’re just some typical, white knight trying to pull some ‘nice guy’ act…”

“Am I?” He prompted. “Or am I the man holding a knife to your throat?”

“Okay, uh,” Abigail finally felt able to speak again. “You’re not going to actually hurt him, right? Because that won’t go well for either of us.”

“That all depends on him.” He looked back to the man on the ground. “Did you post the photos yet?”

The man shook his head, his eyes still locked on the knife.

“N-no. I don’t have connection out here-”

“Delete them.”

With steady movements, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a cell phone. The man with the knife leaned over to get a better look at the screen.

“That’s all of them?”

He nodded weakly.

“Good.” He locked eyes with Abigail, as if they were sharing a private joke, then lowered the knife. “She wants to spare your life. You should do something more productive with it.”

He nodded and scrambled to his feet and ran off.

“Hm,” Knife Man mused. “Does that happen often?”

“I’m not talking to you until you put the knife away.”

He stared at the blade, then shrugged and flipped the blade closed before slipping it into his shirt pocket.

“Fair enough.”

“Thank you,” she stared down at her feet. “For all that.”

“You’re welcome.”

Abigail knelt down to begin picking up the items that fell out of her bag. The chips landed in one place, but some of the cans of energy drinks managed to roll pretty far away.

“Here, let me help.” He picked up one of the cans and examined the label. “Interesting choice, all things considered. Heartwarming, almost.”

“What?”

He gave a sidelong grin and held up a can of Thunderhorse Energy.

“Still supporting the band?”

Abigail felt her face grow hot and she snatched the can out of his hand.

“I just grabbed them at random.”

“Relax, I’m just messing with you,” He extended a hand to her when she finished gathering up her items. “Magnus.”

It took Abigail a moment to realize that he was telling her his name.

“Oh,” she shook his hand, his bony hand was rough against hers. “Abigail.”

“Now that all the excitement has worn off, I have to know,” his single dark eye glimmered. “Did you really break up Dethklok?”

Abigail sighed.

“Why are you asking?”

“It’s just that if you did, I might owe you a drink.”


	3. Chapter 3

Abigail thought that buying gas station energy drinks after midnight was going to be the only moment that night where she felt like she was reliving her university years. But then there she was moments later, in the parking lot, sitting on the roof of her car and eating snacks with a man she just met.

“Wait, you’re serious?” Magnus laughed. “A  _ submarine? _ ”

Abigail shrugged and pried open another energy drink.

“The band needed to record the album with no distractions.”

“Then turn off the router, or make everyone lock their phones in a separate room during the recording session. Christ.” He watched as she downed the drink in a few sizable gulps. “Okay, Thunderhorse can’t be that good, is it?”

“Hm?”

“You’ve been pounding the energy drinks.”

Abigail stuffed the now-empty can into the plastic bag and opened a bag of chili lime potato chips.

“Gotta stay awake. I have a long drive ahead of me.”

“Ah.” Magnus reclined back, his hair splaying out against the roof of her car. “I hope I’m not getting in the way of your plans.”

Abigail shook her head.

“Actually, it feels nice being able to take a break and talk about this with someone who actually believes me.” She piled some chips into her mouth. “You believe me, right?”

Magnus either laughed or exhaled sharply, it was hard to tell.

“You tried to get the band to cooperate, but you couldn’t because all they wanted to do was waste time and argue amongst themselves? Of course I believe you. Sounds very on-brand.”

Abigail frowned,

“You used to work with Dethklok?”

This time, Magnus definitely laughed - or snickered, more accurately.

“I didn’t just work  _ with  _ Dethklok. I was  _ in _ Dethklok.” He shrugged, as if trying to come off as humble. “Used to play rhythm guitar for them back in the early days.”

“Oh, so you were-” Abigail stopped herself before she could say ‘... _ replaced by Toki’ _ . It didn’t seem like the most appropriate thing to say in this context. “... in the original lineup.”

“Something like that,” Magnus agreed. “Although, I left before the band got big. Only the serious diehards know who I am, and even then most of them don’t care.”

Abigail found that hard to believe, as she was fairly certain that anyone who briefly crossed paths with Dethklok would receive a surge of attention (she knew that better than anyone), and she didn’t know who this guy was before that night.

“Then, why…” Abigail cut herself off again, unsure of how to approach this topic.

“Why did I leave Dethklok?”

“Uh,” Her actual question was more like `why _ aren’t you famous?’ _ , but his question sounded nicer. “Yes?”

Magnus waved his hand dismissively. “You work in music, right? You know how these things go. Creative differences, clashing of egos, backstabbing, conflicting personalities, that whole song and dance.”

“And so you quit?” Abigail was relieved at the prospect of meeting someone who left Dethklok’s orbit willingly, but then Magnus hissed through his teeth.

“No, I was...kicked out.” Magnus scooted further up onto the car, but paused before he placed the soles of his boots on the hood. “May I?”

“Go ahead.”

“Thanks. Long legs, and all.” Magnus placed his feet down. 

It didn’t escape Abigail’s notice that Magnus was changing the subject. It also didn’t escape her notice that Magnus did in fact have long legs. He was lying back with one leg dangling off the side of her car and the other bent at the knee. She could see the rest of the parking lot clearly through the triangle formed by his leg. It wasn’t like she was trying to stare, but everything about Magnus made it difficult not to. The length and pointiness of his beard combined with the dark hair trailing down the expanse of his bare chest and his skull belt buckle seemed designed to trick the eye into scanning up and down his body. Which Abigail was forcing herself  _ not _ to do as she tried to focus on his question.

“So, you didn’t tell me where you were driving.”

“I didn’t tell you.”

Magnus smiled,

“Fair enough. I don’t blame you for being cautious.”

“It’s fine,” Abigail said casually as she tried to keep her eyes focused on his face. “I’m just staying with some family until this whole thing blows over.  _ If _ it ever blows over.”

“Eh,” Magnus folded his hands across his chest. “The Cult of Dethklok will find something else to enrage them eventually. You’ll be fine.”

“I’m holding you to that.” Abigail cringed down the final acidic sip of her energy drink before discarding the can. “You know, when Crystal Mountain gave me this gig, I didn’t think it would end with me fleeing the country.”

“Not the thing they usually prepare new music producers for, no?” Magnus’ tone shifted, as if he was preparing his next words carefully. “Fleeing the country? Where…”

“Canada.” Abigail jumped to respond. “I’m Canadian.”

Magnus nodded, but there was a hint of hesitation to it. Thankfully, Magnus wasn’t the type to ask the dreaded “No, where are you  _ really _ from?” question.

Abigail tore her gaze away from Magnus and focused her attention on the blinking neon lights of the city around them.

“But anyway,” Magnus broke the silence. “You were telling me about how you took down Dethklok.”

Abigail scoffed,

“It sounds much more deliberate and impressive when you phrase it like that.”

“Are you kidding me? Even if they’re wrong, people are saying you’re responsible for destroying a major world power. That’s something to be proud of, right? You’re like Helen of Troy, but instead of The Face That Launched a Thousand Ships, you’re-”

“The Snatch That Launched a Thousand Riots?”

Magnus laughed, an oddly joyous sounding the otherwise quiet parking lot.

“Something like that. Although I’d like to point out that ‘snatch’ was _your_ word choice, not mine.” He opened one of his beers and took a swig. “Anyway, as you were saying.”

“I forgot where I left off.”

“You were talking about the submarine Dethklok has, for some reason.”

“You’re still hung up about the sub?”

“I can’t be the only one who thinks it’s ridiculous, okay?”

Abigail rolled her eyes, but a grin was still forming on her face. It felt strange to smile again after everything that had happened, but it still happened naturally. So natural, in fact, that she felt completely comfortable telling Magnus about those long three months in the submarine. When she got to the part about how the entire band got carpal tunnel syndrome from the constant jerking off, it was refreshing to see someone who found the whole situation as funny as she did.

“I can’t believe it,” Magnus sighed and shook his head, but his lips were still formed in a crooked smile. “The most powerful men on earth, huh?”

Magnus stretched his arms over his head, making it near impossible for Abigail to not stare at him. His jacket fell open more as he stretched, revealing his sharp hip bones poking out over the top of his belt. Abigail still mentally chided herself for staring so hard, but come on. You don’t leave your jacket open like that or wear such a bulky, gaudy belt buckle like that and expect people  _ not _ to stare. It was fine, as long as he didn’t notice.

He noticed. The sound of him clearing his throat startled Abigail so much that she almost tumbled off the roof of her car. When she managed to look back at his face, he smirked and gripped the lapels of his jacket.

“I can button it, if that’ll make you more comfortable.”

“N-no!” Abigail cringed at how panicky she sounded. She coughed and tried again. “Wear it however you like. I don’t care.”

The smirk never faded from his face, but thankfully Magnus didn’t tease her further. With his words, at least. His bare chest was still...a feature that Abigail certainly noticed but didn’t feel strongly about one way or another.

“So, Abbi- can I call you ‘Abbi’?”

“Only if I can call you ‘Maggie’.”

Magnus winced.

“Okay, Abigail it is, then.”

He turned his gaze back up to the starless sky above them. “Anyway, I know you had your night cut out for you. But I have a suggestion, if you’ll hear me out.”

Abigail felt a warmth rise in her chest. Was she about to be propositioned? Is that what was happening? The former guitarist for Dethklok was going to proposition her in a gas station parking lot? But oddly enough, Abigail didn’t feel anxious about this idea. Rather, she felt a strange sense of giddiness that sent her heart rate into a frenzy. Or perhaps that was from the energy drinks. Either way, she shocked herself when she realized that if Magnus was going to ask her out, she wouldn’t want to say no.

_ Ask her out.  _ God, this entire night really was sending her backwards in time.

“You said you’re driving to Canada. But whether that’s Victoria or Newfoundland, that’s still quite a trip. Especially with the ‘scandal’ as fresh as it is, the major roads may not be kind to you.” He turned over on his side, facing her. “What I’m suggesting is this: you’re great company and my apartment is only a few bus stops away. If you need a place to crash for the night, you’re more than welcome to stop by.”

Okay, so not exactly a proposition. Except, come on. She wasn’t stupid. She knew what  _ stop by _ most likely meant in this context. She also knew that, given everything that had happened, she should be even more careful with who she chose to trust. But on the other hand, she hated the idea of getting back behind the wheel and driving for another full day. She hated the idea of struggling to find a place to rest or eat and having to resort to sleeping on the side of the road. She hated the idea of coming across the numerous riots invoked by furious Dethklok fans and getting caught in the chaos. And she hated the idea of leaving behind the only potential ally she had.

“You live nearby?” She asked, both to be cautious but also not to appear  _ too  _ eager.

“Yeah,” Magnus shrugged. “It’s a far cry from Dethklok’s setup, I imagine. But as far as shelter goes, it gets the job done.”

“What’s the address.”

Fortunately, Magnus didn’t seem offended or caught off guard when she asked. That would have been a red flag. When he gave her the address, she pulled out her phone (more unwanted messages - still nothing from Offdensen, for the record) and typed in the name of the complex into her browser. When the results showed a fairly modest apartment complex that was in fact not too far from their current location, she felt her last hangups fade away.

“Okay.” She slipped her phone back into her pocket and sat up, brushing the chip crumbs off the front of her hoodie. “I can drive us.”

“Fine by me.” Magnus tucked the pack of beer under his arm and slid off the roof of her car.

Abigail sat down in the driver’s seat and pulled up the directions to Magnus’ apartment on her phone and continued. The moment Magnus sat down, he immediately began fiddling with her radio.

“What do you listen to? You’re a producer, I imagine you got eclectic tastes.”

“I just have some audiobooks in there now. But I have some CDs in the glove compartment. You can look around, if you’d like.”

As Abigail pulled out of the parking lot, Magnus opened the glove compartment and thumbed through the CDs. She was focusing on the road, but it was still difficult not to notice Magnus’ reactions to her music collection. Whenever she heard him making an approving “hm”, she had to resist the urge to look over to see which CD he was looking at.

“You have a  _ lot  _ of Einstürzende Neubauten.”

Abigail snickered,

“Is there something wrong with that?”

“Not at all, just making an observation. I like it.”

“Really?” Although it didn’t surprise her at all. “You can throw one of those on if you’d like. Zampano is my go-to pump up anthem.”

Magnus laughed,

“Tempting, but after how many energy drinks you had, maybe we should keep away from the ‘pump up anthems’.”

He continued digging through the CDs.

“What’s this?”

Abigail allowed herself a moment to glance at the CD in his hand. A blank disc in a plastic sleeve with  _ AR - JUL 14 _ sprawled across its surface in black marker.

“Oh,” Abigail shrugged. “That’s just something I produced. Not for work. Sometimes I like to make beats in my free time.”

“I see.” Magnus turned the CD around in his hands, causing reflected light to bounce around the inside of her car. “Can I hear it?”

Abigail hesitated, mainly because the thought of putting on her own music in the car sounded too conceited for words, but she shrugged.

“Yeah, go ahead. But it’s still pretty rough.”

It could have been her imagination, but she swore she heard Magnus mutter  _ I like rough _ before sliding the disc into the CD player.

Abigail felt her gut tighten the moment she heard the first lo-fi track come through the speakers. She kept her own CDs in the car so she could listen to them and pick out anything she needed to go back and edit. And unfortunately, there was a lot that needed editing. Perhaps the problems wouldn’t be noticeable to an untrained ear, but after working in music production for so long it was painfully obvious to her that this was not a finished cut. When the keys came sprinkling in, the mixing was so jarring that Abigail almost wanted to swerve the car into a wall and put both her and Magnus out of their misery. Magnus was a music guy too - there was no way he didn’t notice.

She tried to keep her focus on the road, but through the corner of her eye she saw Magnus tapping his hand to the rhythm of the light percussion against the car door.

“This is good. I like this.”

Abigail scoffed.

“Really?”

“Yeah. This is good music to read to, or get stoned to. Or both.”

“At least I have my demographics cut out for me.”

She felt a need to ask Magnus for specifics about what he liked, or to point out the mistakes in the production, but she decided to let the compliment stand on its own.

“It’s nice,” Magnus continued. “Although, not the type of music I would have expected from  _ The Engineering Metal Queen _ .”

Abigail groaned.

“You read that article?”

“I like to stay dialed into the industry.” Magnus grinned. “What was that other title they gave you?”

“The Record Cleaner?” Abigail sighed. “Fancy way to say ‘takes on the jobs other producers don’t want’.”

The truth was, Dethklok was far from the first band who broke up while she was on the team. Sure, there were instances where bands fell apart because they couldn’t handle her methods. But it couldn’t be ignored that she was often assigned gigs where the band was already in messy territory. Production going over budget. Albums scrapped right before the release date. Musicians working against the label. It was hard to feel like a queen when, more often than not, she was trying to wrangle a bunch of musicians into working on a project that was already dead in the water.

Of course, there were a lot of bands who excelled under her control. However, like the lo-fi instrumental she was listening to, it was hard not to focus on the negatives.

“Still, you should be proud.” Magnus reclined in his seat. “You share this stuff at all?”

“Yeah, I just post it online under a different name.” Abigail froze. “If those Dethklok fans find my SoundCloud, I’m  _ fucked _ .”

“You’re fine. I can’t imagine any of them would care  _ that _ much.”

“You’ve met Dethklok fans, right?” Abigail sighed as she folded her arms against the top of the steering wheel. “It feels so lonely. Like, everyone else worships them, and I’m stuck on the outside, with no one on my side.”

Magnus was quiet for a long time, with only the gentle sounds of her CD filling the silence between them.

“You’re not alone in this.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know you’re not fond of them either. But it’s still us against the rest of the world.”

Magnus shook his head. When he spoke again, there was a darker, more deliberate quality to his voice that sent a shiver up her spine.

“We’re not alone either. I promise you that.”

Abigail didn’t know how she was expected to interpret that. Perhaps it was just an empty platitude. But the sentiment was nice, so she decided not to push against it.


	4. Chapter 4

When they reached the apartment complex, Abigail navigated through the parking lot with Magnus’ guidance. She pulled into one of the non-reserved spaces near the outer perimeter.

“Thanks for the ride, by the way. The bus schedule is very sporadic this time of night.” Magnus stretched his arms before unbuckling his seatbelt. “I can cover the gas cost.”

Abigail shook her head,

“Don’t worry about it. The drive wasn’t that long.”

Abigail watched as Magnus had to practically unfold himself out of his seat to get out of her car. She didn’t think her two seater was that small, but seeing the way he had his knees pressed against the glove compartment helped put things into perspective.

Magnus led her to his apartment, which to her relief was in a relatively well-lit area near the front of the complex. By this point she had mostly warmed up to Magnus, but there was nothing wrong with continuing to exercise some caution.

“Fair warning: it might be a bit messy.” Magnus said as he fumbled with his key.

“You’re fine, don’t worry about it.” In Abigail’s experience, apologizing for how messy your place is was a standard thing to say to someone visiting for the first time. Abigail was sure she said similar things to visitors after scrubbing her entire place clean.

Magnus opened the door and flicked on the light.

“You can leave your shoes by the door.” Magnus said as he kicked off his own boots.

Abigail knelt down to untie her sneakers as she looked around at her surroundings.

His apartment wasn’t unsanitary, at least. It wasn’t like she entered a dank dungeon filled with rotting food and weird bodily stains. Not that this was a concern of hers, or anything. But it was...cluttered. And a strange mix of clutter at that. Like the meeting of worlds between an angry 20 year old and exhausted professor. 

The only piece of furniture Abigail saw when she entered was an old sofa, the cushions hidden behind piles of books, CDs, and VHS tapes. A projector was sitting on top of a crate placed in front of the sofa next to an old laptop. One wall was kept bare for the projection screen set up across from the couch, but all of the other walls were hidden behind old posters, art prints, and bookshelves. It looked just like a room she would have stayed in back in university, except for the bookshelves. Even in the height of her schooling, Abigail didn’t own as many books as Magnus. Hell, she was sure he owned more books than she ever had in her entire life. The books not scattered haphazardly on the sofa or on the floor were crammed into the bookshelves, leaving hardly any room for photos, knickknacks, or other things people stored on their shelves.

“Make yourself at home.” Magnus swept the books and other items off of the sofa to make room.

Abigail sat and watched as Magnus walked over to the kitchenette to put away his pack of beer.

“You want something to drink?” He called to her. “I don’t have Thunderhorse, but I have, uh, beer...water...and…” There was the sound of Magnus pushing around items in his cupboards. “...absinthe, and, uh...sriracha?”

“I’ll just take water, thank you.”

“Tap okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

Magnus returned to the living area with two cups of water. He handed one to Abigail and took a seat on the other side of the sofa.

“Thank you again.” Abigail spoke, mostly to fill the silence as she stared down into her cup. “It feels good to be able to talk about this to someone.”

“You’re welcome, and likewise.” He held his cup out to her. “To living in obscurity?”

Abigail held her cup out as well.

“To living in obscurity.”

The barely-audible sound their plastic cups made when they tapped them together wasn’t satisfying at all, but it still brought a grin to Abigail’s face. After everything that had happened, living in obscurity felt like a distant paradise.

Abigail drank her water, which certainly helped to settle her nerves. However, that effect didn’t last long when she decided to check her phone.

Why did she do that?

Her reaction must have been noticeable, because Magnus looked over at her.

“You good?”

“Yeah, just…” She sighed as she scrolled through the seemingly-endless sea of unwanted notifications. “Ever since my number got leaked, my phone’s been basically unusable.”

“Oh, that’s bullshit.” Magnus’ eyes widened suddenly and he bolted up straighter in his seat. “Wait, does that mean someone could use your phone to track your location?”

“Dude, don’t make me think about that.”

“You mind if I take a look at your phone?” Magnus held his phone out. “I’m pretty good at throwing off trackers.”

Abigail hesitated at first, but knowing what some obsessive Dethklok fans were capable of, it seemed like the smart idea. And it wasn’t like Offdensen was rushing to protect her privacy, like he did with the band.

“Okay,” she placed the phone in his hand. “Just, uh, don’t read any of those notifications. I’ve been getting even more dick pics than usual.”

“I’m not gonna snoop, don’t worry.”

Abigail leaned over Magnus’ shoulder, watching him fiddle with the various settings in her phone. She was probably sitting closer to him than was necessary, but he didn’t seem to mind. Occasionally her hair would fall forward into his line of sight, but that would only elicit a soft chuckle from him.

“Here ya’ go.” Magnus handed the phone back to her. “You won’t get any notifications from anyone who’s not in your contacts. I also disabled all of the location trackers I could find. You may not be able to use some apps and it’s not a permanent, long-term fix, but you should be good until you change your number.”

Abigail stared down at her phone and a sense of relief washed over her when her screen wasn’t bombarded with unwanted messages.

“Thank you, seriously.”

Magnus shrugged,

“It’s no trouble. I’ve had to do the same thing myself.”

Abigail scrolled through her recent calls, which were now much easier to sort through. However, it was still the case that no one she knew ever reached out to her. Offdensen was usually on top of everything. By that point, this had to be intentional.

“Something the matter? You still look...pensive.”

Abigail slumped her shoulders, staring down at the manager’s contact page in her phone. It was all too tempting to call him again.

“It’s just...I’ve been trying to reach out to Offdensen.” Abigail shrugged. “Figured he might know what to do.”

Abigail looked up at Magnus. His expression was difficult to read, as if he were making an effort not to convey one. His features were tight and strained, but his eyes were unfocused, like he was looking past her.

“Charles can’t help you.” His voice was quiet, but backed with obvious personal experience. “Or rather, he won’t.”

Abigail let her phone screen go dark and dropped it back into her pocket.

“I don’t mean to ruin any hope you may have, but…” Magnus sighed and raked his fingers through his curls. “Charles is a brilliant manager - one of the best. But he’s only the best because he focuses his energy on what will directly benefit him and his clients. You don’t become that powerful in the corporate world without compartmentalizing whatever scraps of a moral compass you once had.”

There was a twinge of hurt in his voice that Abigail zeroed in on immediately. There was a dark part of her mind that wanted to learn more, but she resisted the urge to pry further.

“I know what you’re getting at, but it’s not like I have any other options.”

Magnus took a deep breath.

“You’re not as powerless as you think Abigail. Dethklok’s empire can’t last forever - even Charles’ power is limited. Trust me.”

“That’s great and all, but that doesn’t help me now.” Abigail slammed back the rest of her water. “And you know what’s fucked? They’re not even going to take a hit from this. The band breaks up, and  _ my _ career and life is ruined from it? It’s bullshit! They’re going to be just fine, and I’m--!” Abigail stopped abruptly. “I mean, it’s not that I want them to go through the same things as me. They’re good guys, I know.”

“No, no.” Magnus’ smile had fully reformed on his face. “Keep going, don’t backtrack. I’m loving every second of this.”

Abigail scoffed, but she couldn’t help but smile as well.

“Getting kicked out of the band did a number on you, huh?”

The moment she said it, she worried that he would have taken it was an insult. Fortunately, Magnus just laughed.

“More than you think.” He traced his finger around his one cloudy eye and winked.

It took a while for Abigail to process what he was getting at. When it finally sank in, she gasped.

“Wait, that...how...why…” she stammered, not knowing the appropriate way to begin her questions.

Magnus waved his hand, dispeling her worries.

“Without getting into the...graphic or incriminating details, one of the members of Dethklok punched me. A lot.”

Abigail stared at him, mouth agape. Even though it probably didn’t matter, her mind was racing to figure out who could have done that. Pickles was surprisingly strong, despite his size. Murderface looked like he could deliver a decent punch. Nathan looked like he could split someone’s skull in half with a single punch. Skwisgaar...well, probably not. Although, she was sure a well-placed punch by anyone could result in the damage Magnus received.

“Wait, so someone in your band attacked you in a way that resulted in permanent damage?” Abigail was still processing, so she jumped to the first question that popped into her mind. “Did you sue?”

Magnus laughed.

“Yeah. A disgraced rhythm guitarist up to his tits in grad school debt, taking Charles Offdensen’s band to court.” He shook his head. “Also, I don’t know if you considered this, but don’t sue Dethklok for anything that happened to you. Even though I think you’re in the right, you won’t win that battle.”

“Don’t worry. I haven’t planned on that.” Abigail chewed her lip, not knowing what to say beyond that. Fortunately, he gifted her with the perfect offramp for all of the Dethklok talk. “So, you also went to grad school?”

His face seemed to brighten when she brought that up, or maybe he was also grateful for the change of subject. Or maybe she was just imagining things.

“Yeah, like, a thousand years ago.” He chuckled. “You're a grad student too? I should have guessed. What did you study?”

“Music production. Yourself?”

“English literature.”

Abigail blinked. His answer caught her off guard - honestly she was expecting something music-related as well.

“With a focus on controversial or banned media.” His lips curled into a sly smile. “As you can guess, I didn’t have a fallback career lined up if Dethklok didn’t work out for me.”

Abigail snickered,

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure ‘don’t quit your day job’ was something they told us the first week of every class.”

“It’s good to see that support for the arts is still alive and well.”

“I know, right?” Abigail grinned. “But English literature, huh? Wouldn’t have been my first guess.”

Magnus shrugged,

“I like reading, didn’t have any real plans after my first run at college, seemed like an obvious choice at the time.” He took a sip of his water. “So, was music production something you always wanted to do?”

“Sort of, I guess. I like music, but I can’t play any instruments, so…”

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow. “What I heard from your CD proved otherwise.”

Abigail felt her face heat up as she laughed.

“Come on, that was all sampling. I can only play some keyboard, and even then just barely.”

“So? You still made music, and you clearly have talent.” He smiled. “Own it.”

“Oh no, I’m not denying I have talent.”

Magnus laughed,

“Shit, you’re a fuckin’ delight. Maybe it’s a good thing I’m not in Dethklok anymore, because I might have started fighting over you too.”

Abigail’s face now felt like it was burning up. Due to the company usually surrounding her in her career, she became quite good at brushing off obvious flirting. But with Magnus, she didn’t want to brush it off. Instead, she let herself bask in it - in the words he said and in the feelings they gave her.

“I certainly would have had a much harder time turning you down.”

“So in this scenario you’re imagining, are we in the submarine?”

“Again with the submarine?!”

“I’m not done with the submarine. It’s like a metaphor for the band as a whole.”

“Oh?” Abigail prompted, her lips forming a smirk. “How so?”

“You know…” Magnus fiddled with his hands as he spoke. “Something that’s expensive, metal, and eventually collapses from pressure.”

“Aren’t submarines built to survive under pressure?”

“Yeah, but…” he twirled some strands of his hair around his fingers. “Okay, the metaphor needs work. I’ll develop it more later. Maybe I’ll write a think piece or something.”

Magnus placed his cup down on the crate and stood up.

“You can have my room tonight. I just need to get the bed ready.”

Abigail sat up straighter.

“You don’t have to do that. I can sleep out here.”

Magnus shrugged,

“Honestly, I’ve been sleeping on the couch more, as of late. It’s no trouble.”

“Okay, only if you’re sure.”

He smiled,

“I’ll be right back.”

Magnus disappeared into his room, leaving Abigail alone on the sofa. So naturally, she got up and began looking around. Not actively snooping, of course, but just inspecting her surroundings as closely as she could without it being an invasion of privacy.

What stood out to Abigail first was that even though Magnus had an abundance of posters taped to the walls, hardly any of them were for musical acts. There were a couple here and there, but most of them appeared to be for films. Most were for old science fiction films she never watched, non-English titles she didn’t recognize, or films she didn’t know still carried posters. How Magnus got his hands on a glossy poster for Ken Russell’s  _ The Devils _ , she had no idea. In addition to the art, there were also some guitars propped up against the wall, although the coating of dust answered Abigail’s question about whether or not he continued to pursue music after Dethklok.

She continued scanning through the bookshelves for anything of interest. Did he seriously read all of these books? Sure she listened to audiobooks, but most of them were musician biographies or self help books. It was hard to focus on a story when she always had to be doing something else. Hey, with everything that went down (so to speak) with Dethklok, she now had a chance to reinvent herself. Maybe New Abigail read more books.

Something did catch her eye. The only non-book item on any of the shelves: a photograph poking out slightly from between two notebooks. The moment she thought she recognized something in the photo, Abigail knew she had to get a closer look.

After checking to make sure Magnus wasn’t returning from the bedroom, she knelt down and carefully pulled out the photo as far as she could without dislodging it completely. 

There it was. A photo of Magnus and Dethklok. Taken at one of their earliest concert venues, Abigail assumed. Magnus and Skwisgaar sat on the stage, smiling for the camera with their guitars resting in their laps. Nathan was in the background, not noticing the camera as he was lugging equipment somewhere off-frame. Murderface was slightly blurry from running while he was carrying something over his head, which Abigail later identified as a case of beer. Pickles was somewhere in the background talking to Offdensen, who seemed much less tense than she was used to seeing from him. In fact, they all did. They all looked so young, well, except for Skwisgaar who apparently never aged. It was hard to believe that this was the start of a future cultural empire. In that photo, they just looked like a bunch of normal guys. Some friends getting ready for their first concert. It was so...normal. So un-Dethklok.

But by far the most surreal part was Magnus himself. Abigail believed him when he said he used to be in Dethklok, but to actually see visual proof was a different feeling altogether. He sat in that photo, both of his eyes intact and his long hair entirely that shade of deep brown. She recognized a lot of the current Magnus in that photo, The way he sat to the mischievous curl of his lips. But there was something else different that went beyond the passing of time or having his eye (allegedly) punched out. It felt weird to think this about a grown man, but he seemed more innocent. She knew that most likely she only felt that way because of how everything turned out, but it was the only descriptor that made sense. All of them seemed more innocent, in fact. Looking at the photo, for a brief moment she found it hard to hold onto any anger she had towards the band.

Abigail slid the photo back into its original spot and sat back down when she heard the bedroom door open.

“You’re good to go.” Magnus returned to the sofa by climbing over the back and tumbling onto the cushions. Seeing him sprawled out like that made it easier for Abigail to recognize him as the younger man in the photo.

“Thank you. I should try to get my sleep schedule back on track.”

“Smart idea. Good night, Abigail.”

“Good night.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut warning.

Abigail got up and made her way to the bedroom. She didn’t feel tired, but the rational side of her brain was screaming at her to get some sleep. Had she even gotten a full night’s rest since the falling out with Dethklok? It was hard to say. The days and nights since the scandal breaking melted together to the point where time felt like it was measured by hate mail and doxxings.

She opened the bedroom door and closed it gently behind her. Compared to his living room, his bedroom was much more bare. A decent-sized mattress rested on a low bed frame next to a basket of laundry. The blackout curtains were heavy and seemed way too long for the height of the room from the way they pooled against the carpet. Other than that, there was nothing. No art on the walls, no random items collected on top of the dresser, nothing. If the living room didn’t look so lived-in and like a perfect representation of his personality, she would have guessed that the bedroom belonged to someone who was still in the process of moving. She fully believed that he spent most of his time in the living room, which certainly helped her feel better about stealing his bedroom for the night.

After stepping out of her jeans and tying her hair up into a bun, Abigail collapsed face-first onto the bed. Eventually she managed to maneuver her way under the covers. His sheets were clean, which was much appreciated. But she couldn’t escape that they smelled like him -- god was she actually thinking about that? She outwardly winced, but she couldn’t deny how thrilling it was. Some (former) rockstar defends her honor, takes her back to his place, and now she’s sleeping in his bed? This was definitely an erotic fantasy of hers back in university. Of course, that fantasy usually ended with the rock star paying for her tuition and chewing out any music teacher who didn’t take her seriously, but the core concept was still there. 

Abigail was professional and with the exception of the incident with Nathan, she never fucked any of the musicians she worked with. However, she didn’t work with Magnus and there was nothing wrong with fantasies, right? Her natural instinct was to scrutinize herself, but she always kept coming back to the same conclusion: 

That conclusion: 

Okay fine, she would totally fuck Magnus.

Not in reality, of course. But the confident, sexy Abigail who only existed in her masturbation fantasies. The Abigail who wore thigh high leather boots without chafing her skin and could dirty talk without feeling silly. The Abigail who fucked random people, not because of any sense of emotional connection, but just because she could. 

Maybe this Abigail briefly surfaced during the submarine voyage. In that case, Confident Sexy Abigail was responsible for ruining her life and tanking the world economy. 

The cunnalingus heard around the world.

Abigail snorted and made a mental note to share that line with Magnus the next morning.

But anyway, now that Abigail had made peace with the knowledge that she would totally fuck him if the circumstances were just right, there was one last Rubicon she needed to cross:

Was it morally acceptable to masturbate in someone else’s bed?

Because holy _fuck_ she was horny. She hadn’t felt this pent up since the submarine, and that was from having to go weeks without getting to use her vibrator. Why did it now take her so much less time to get worked up? Was this her destiny? To be frustrated and horny for the rest of her life?

Because she couldn’t escape it. As she burrowed herself further into the sheets, her bare legs twisting around them, his presence was surrounding her. She imagined him pushing her face into the pillow, a move she hated in real life but was totally acceptable in her fantasies, and fucking her senseless. Maybe biting her neck? Yeah, he seemed like a biter. 

Her hips squirmed at the thought. He was _right outside_ and she was in his bed, and he had no idea how worked up she was getting. What if he liked it? The thought of him getting all worked up over how worked up she was getting…

Her fingers were trailing up her inner thigh.

 _Stop that!_ She scolded herself and she snapped her hand back. Okay, yeah, that was going too far. No matter how fuckable she now thought Magnus was (apparently), if she found out he jerked off in her bed, that would be a serious deal breaker.

_Or would it be kind of hot?_

_No, you’re just horny. Your opinions can’t be trusted._

Abigail groaned in frustration and slammed her head back against the pillow. The idea of falling asleep seemed impossible. Even if she wasn’t this hot and bothered, she wasn’t tired at all. Maybe the energy drinks were a mistake. She kept squeezing her eyes shut, willing herself to go to sleep. Nothing. It was like her mind was resisting to keep her eyes closed for more than a few seconds. She had enough energy to run a marathon. Or have marathon sex.

_Goddammit, Abigail._

Abigail continued lying in bed, no longer trying to fall asleep but now trying to figure out her next course of action. She needed sleep, but obviously that wasn’t going to happen. More than anything, she was just bored and it wasn’t like anything in the room could entertain her.

With a heavy sigh, Abigail swung her legs out from under the covers and pulled her jeans back on.

Magnus was still reclined on the couch when she left the bedroom. It was an interesting experience, seeing someone for the first time after you thought about fucking them. It was like seeing someone with new eyes. New, awkward, uncomfortably horny eyes.

He had his laptop hooked up to the projector which was showing some film. It was animated, but looked nothing like the animated movies she watched growing up. The art style was uncomfortably realistic with a distinct style of shading. Abigail racked her brain to try to think of the term. Cross hatching? Stippling? This is why she went into music and not art.

The projector was showing a scene of a blue-skinned giant with saucer-like red eyes picking up a human baby between her thumb and forefinger when Magnus tapped the space key on his laptop to pause the film.

“Sorry, too loud?” He poked his head over the top of the sofa and for a second Abigail forgot how to act like a human being.

“I, um…” she shook her head. “You’re fine. I just can’t sleep.”

Magnus smiled, which certainly didn’t help her situation.

“Energy drinks?”

“Uh. Yeah.”

Magnus sat up straighter and motioned to the other side of the sofa.

“You’re welcome to join me.”

Abigail stood frozen in front of the bedroom door as she had a very serious conversation with herself over whether or not she was in a place where she could handle sitting next to him. At some point, she decided to just give in, mainly because it actually seemed weirder to do anything else. And besides, maybe this weird-looking movie could serve as a cinematic cold shower of sorts.

She sat down next to him and let her head rest against the back of the sofa. Magnus leaned forward to resume the movie before relaxing next to her. The film was in French with English subtitles, which meant Abigail had to expend a little more mental energy into paying attention. Which turned out to be a good thing, because if she was too busy focusing on reading the subtitles, she wouldn’t be able to focus on how close Magnus was to her, or how dark the room was, or how the light from the projector highlighted the angular planes of his face...and his body…

Whoops, she missed an entire exchange of dialogue between the giant blue people.

“What is this?” Abigail asked, hoping he could provide her with some context.

“ _Fantastic Planet_.” Magnus pointed towards his bookshelves with a lazy wave of his hand. “The English translation of the book it’s based on came out a few years ago, so I thought I’d revisit it.”

“Ah, I see.” She hadn’t heard of it. “Is the book good?”

Magnus shrugged,

“It’s fine, but I think I missed a lot with the translation.” He turned his head towards her, his hair falling over his eyes. “You said you’re Canadian. Do you speak French?”

“Not since primary school, sadly.” Abigail sighed. “I forgot everything.”

“Oh, because I have a copy of the French original and I was going to lend it to you.”

Abigail laughed.

“Yeah, I don’t know how verbs work. I don’t think I’ll be able to get through a full science fiction novel.”

“Maybe I’ll give it to you anyway. I could use the shelf space.”

“So do you normally invite girls back to your place just to dish out books?”

He smiled and shook his head.

“Oh no, you’re special. I don’t give unwanted books to just anyone.”

Abigail scoffed and tried to turn her attention back to the surreal imagery on the projection screen, but a smile was still forming on her face.

“What?” Magnus folded his arms against the back of the sofa, his body now twisted away from the screen. “Get that a lot, do you?”

Abigail chuckled under her breath.

“You are making this very difficult.”

They returned to watching the movie, or at least, Magnus did. Abigail tried, for what it’s worth. After a while, she stopped reading the subtitles because she found herself more interested in the visuals. The art was beautiful, but in an off putting way. Each frame was so incredibly detailed, that it was jarring whenever any of the characters moved.

But as the film went on, Abigail found that she was more interested in Magnus. The way his dark eyes were so focused on the projection screen, his torso which was...yep, still bare. Apparently he wore the open denim jacket around the apartment too. It was hard enough not to look when they were in the parking lot together, but alone in his living room, with nothing but the sounds of French alien things to fill the space - it somehow only enhanced the feeling. Eventually, Abigail gave up on trying to be stealthy. She came to this conclusion when she realized that she was turned to fully face him.

Magnus glanced at her through the corner of his eye.

“What are you thinking about?” His tone was alarmingly soft.

“Nothing.” She was caught, but she didn’t move. Instead, she continued to look at him.

“Is that so?” Magnus reached over to pause the film, but he never took his eyes off her. “Somehow, I doubt that.”

He was close. Closer than before, but still an appropriate distance for sitting next to someone on the sofa. In a moment of equal parts boldness and cowardice, Abigail let her knee brush against his. A move that could be easily dismissed as an accident, but…

Magnus pulled away slightly and Abigail felt her body go cold.

“Abigail…” His voice was a bit breathier, but his expression read more confused. Probably not a good sign. He sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. “I think we need to talk frankly about this. Because I’m way past the years where I had the patience to do the whole ‘dancing in circles’ thing.”

Wait, was this happening? Abigail cleared her throat and nodded, putting on her “business face”, which she still managed to pull off in a hoodie and jeans.

“Okay, let’s talk.” Her voice was smooth and level.

“Right,” Magnus tapped his long fingers against the armrest as he seemed to be actively avoiding her gaze. “To put it bluntly: you’re good company. You’re smart, funny, beautiful, you hate Dethklok-”

“I don’t _hate_ Dethklok.” Abigail interjected.

“So you say.” He smirked. “But anyway, if you’d like to take things a bit further tonight, I’d be interested in that too. But on the other hand, I imagine after everything you’ve been through, you’re probably sick to death of being pursued by men and you just needed a place to crash. If that’s the case,” he held his hands up. “I’ll drop it, and we can pretend that this never happened.”

Abigail struggled to hold onto her “business face”. Moments ago she was thinking about fucking herself in his bed, and now she was having trouble putting words together.

“So what you’re saying is…” she spoke slowly, as if just dipping her toe into the topic before taking the plunge. “You are talking about sex, right?”

Magnus laughed,

“To put it even more bluntly, sure.”

“Okay, sick.” God, what was wrong with her? Of course she did! 

She nodded before she let herself say something else stupid.

“Is that a yes?” Magnus was already inching his way closer to her.

Abigail nodded again, already feeling out of breath.

“Yes.” She shivered. 

His hand was on her shoulder, trailing up the nape of her neck and cradling the back of her head. She let herself get closer, resting her legs in his lap and gripping the thick fabric of his jacket. Her heart was racing so fast she wondered if he could hear it too. She imagined he could feel her pulse beneath his fingers.

He kissed her, or maybe she kissed him. Abigail couldn’t process the specifics. She couldn’t help herself as she moaned into the kiss, which only prompted him to pull her closer, until he was lying back on the sofa with her straddling his hips.

Abigail sat up and smirked down at him, reaching up to undo her hair from its bun. The move looked sexier in her mind, as it took a few tugs for the hair tie to come loose. But she shook the tension out of her hair, and leaned back down to capture Magnus’ lips in another rough kiss. 

Magnus trailed his lips down the slope of her jawline to her neck, only to accidentally get some of her hair in his mouth. 

She pulled back when she realized what had happened.

“Sorry,” Abigail laughed. “I can tie it back up again.”

“No, no,” Magnus shook his head and ran his fingers through his own hair. “Looking at us, I think there’s going to be a lot of that tonight.”

Abigail laughed again and buried her face into the crook of his neck. For a moment, she let her movements still and allowed herself to lay on top of him, savoring the feeling of his breath against her neck, the hands roaming her body. The closeness. It felt like it had been forever since she was last touched like this - since she last touched someone else like this.

“You okay?” Magnus’ voice was a rough whisper.

Abigail nodded.

“Yeah, just needed to take a breather.”

She kissed him again, pushing him back until his head was resting against the armrest. With her lying down on top of him, there was little Magnus could do beyond letting her take control. Guiding his hands across her body, maneuvering his arms out of his jacket, grinding her hips down against the prominent tent growing in his jeans.

Abigail pulled back to catch her breath again. She was so used to Magnus towering over her that it was surreal to be able to look down at him for once. Seeing him with his face flushed, his hair strewn across the armrest, and only being able to look up utterly entranced at her. She trailed a hand down his bare chest, savoring the light hiss he made when she increased the pressure of her fingertips.

The hands that were gripping her hips were now moving up under her hoodie. As he ran his hand across the smooth skin of her bare back, she heard him hum in approval.

“No bra?” The grin was obvious in his voice even without Abigail looking at him.

Abigail’s face flushed, although she couldn’t tell if it was from Magnus’ voice or what his hands were currently doing under her sweater.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone to see me.”

He pressed his lips against her jawline.

“It’s so fucking sexy.” His lips buzzed against her neck as he took one of her breasts in his hand.

Abigail didn’t know if he actually found her “midnight caffeine run” outfit sexy, but she wasn’t going to question him. Especially not when his other hand was sliding under her jeans.

In a fluid motion, he pushed her back against the couch so he was crawling over her. Her hoodie was thrown to the living room floor at some point and Magnus wasted no time working his mouth down her chest. The feeling of his goatee brushing against her stomach was not exactly her favorite sensation, but the things he was doing with his mouth was enough to help distract her from that. His teeth lightly grazing her nipple caused her to gasp and clamp her thighs around his lanky body.

“Magnus!” She inhaled sharply and arched her back, granting him more access to her body. When she rolled her head to the side, she gasped again, but this time it was from fear rather than pleasure.

The film was still on the projector. The entire time they’ve been making out and feeling each other up, a bunch of blue-skinned, fish-eared aliens were watching them with their unblinking red eyes.

“Hey, uh,” she pulled at his shoulder. “Could you turn that off?”

Magnus looked up at her, his head resting against her stomach.

“Or we could move to my room.”

Abigail nodded, suddenly breathless again.

“Yeah, or we can do that.”

He kissed the skin just above her navel before getting up to turn off the projector. Abigail stood up, now very aware that her tits were still on display. Is this how Magnus felt every day? She thought about asking him how his nipples weren’t constantly getting rubbed raw under his jacket, but she figured that would ruin the mood.

She followed him into his bedroom and he pushed her onto the bed. The gasp in her throat morphed into a playful laugh when he pulled her jeans down her thighs.

“Wow,” She grinned and kicked her jeans off the rest of the way. “Getting right to it then, huh?”

He knelt over her and pressed his mouth to the top of her thigh.

“Do you want me to slow down?”

Abigail shook her head,

“No, please. Keep doing what you’re doing.”

She felt him smirk against her skin and soon he was trailing back up her body until her lips were locked with his again. Kissing Magnus was intense. Not in a romantic, emotional way, but in a way that felt more primal than anything Abigail had experienced before. The way he clung to her body only heightened the sensations. She felt utterly consumed by him, but not in a way that made her feel disposable, but in a way that made her feel desirable.

A noise that could only be described as a whimper escaped her throat when one of those long fingers caressed the front of her underwear, the thin fabric the only barrier between him and her clit. She dug her nails into his shoulder, causing him to hiss through his teeth, and she felt no shame as she ground her hips against his touch.

She managed to gain enough lucidity to reach down for his belt buckle, which turned out to be much more difficult to undo than she expected. Fortunately, Magnus was able to undo it with his free hand, saving her the trouble. She was just about to get to work getting him out of his jeans, but then his hand was down her underwear and for a moment she was unable to focus on anything else.

The first touch sent sparks up her spine, the same feeling she was chasing in that very bed only an hour before. Magnus pressed his lips to her jaw, trailing upwards until he reached her ear. He lightly nipped at the lobe the same time he moved his finger strategically around her clit.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he whispered, his lips vibrated against her ear. “Did you want this as much as I did?”

Abigail nodded, incapable of saying anything else as she moved her hips with Magnus’ motions.

Magnus moved his fingers lower until one was encircling her entrance before slipping inside easily. Abigail let her head fall back against the pillows. She wasn’t being the most active sexual partner, but she didn’t care. As long as Magnus didn’t stop doing those things with his incredibly talented fingers.

He pulled her into another kiss as he worked his hand vigorously, curling his fingers in just the right way and brushing his thumb against her clit. Her inner thighs were already soaked and her voice was bouncing across multiple pitches. The music producer in her couldn’t help but try to picture how insane her voice would look as an audio track.

“Oh fuck,” The words came out in a sharp exhale. “Magnus.”

“Hm?” He murmured into her neck, but he never slowed his movements, making it very difficult for her to form her words together.

Abigail took a deep breath,

“I want you to fuck me now.”

Magnus pulled back so he could look into her eyes and gradually slowed the movements of his hand.

“Since you asked so nicely.” He kissed her on the lips in a way that was oddly chaste considering the context. Then he sat up and stared at his now-glistening hand, before shrugging and wiping it on the sheets.

Abigail must have grimaced because Magnus laughed when he looked back at her.

“What? If I do my part right, there will be more where that came from.”

“Don’t be fucking weird.” Abigail stretched her leg out to playfully kick his upper arm.

He caught her leg by the ankle and pressed a kiss to her inner calf.

“You look cute when you’re all flustered, by the way.” He patted her leg before standing up and making his way to the dresser in the other side of the room.

Abigail rolled onto her side so she could watch him. It finally struck her how much bulk that jacket added to his upper body. Without it, she could fully see the angular plane of his chest, the sharp knob of his shoulders, and the way his ribs became visible when he stretched his arms over his head. Compared to how intimidating he looked in the convenience store, it was almost surreal.

He pulled a box of condoms out of the top drawer and Abigail sat up straighter.

“What’s the expiration date?”

Some guys would have taken such a question as an insult ( _“What? You think I’m not getting any?”_ ), but Magnus turned the box over in his hands.

“We’ve got two more years, don’t worry.” He removed one package then handed her the box so she could inspect as well.

Abigail found it difficult to focus on the label as Magnus began unbuttoning his jeans. She reclined back on the bed, lazily swirling two fingers around her clit as she watched him pull his pants down the rest of the way. She briefly paused when she saw his erection spring free. It was one thing to feel it through the rough fabric of his jeans, but actually seeing his hard dick was a different experience altogether.

“Oh, fuck,” she exhaled.

Magnus was more focused on rolling the condom down his shaft, but he still smirked at her reaction.

With the condom in place, Magnus returned to the bed. Abigail let out a surprised laugh when he looped his arms around her thighs and pulled her closer to him. He cut her laugh off with another kiss, but somehow this one felt different. It wasn’t a kiss she felt consumed by, but rather she felt like she was melting into his touch. His movements were slow and sensual, as if he was taking his time working his mouth against hers.

He moved his head lower, burying his face into her neck and probably suffocating himself in her hair in the process. Although, she did have to shake her head to get his hair out of her face, so they were even.

Magnus gripped her thigh and hooked it over his hip. Abigail arched her neck back, staring up at the ceiling as she felt him sink into her. A high-pitched whine crawled out of her throat as she clamped her thighs tighter around his hips, pulling him in deeper.

“You feel so fucking good,” Magnus panted into her ear before lightly nipping the lobe.

He rolled his hips into her and any response Abigail might have had dissolved into a sharp gasp. She bucked up into his movements, encouraging him to go faster as she gripped his shoulders. She thought there was something primal and intense about kissing Magnus, but fucking him was on a whole different level. 

The way he clung to her, the way he looked at her, the way he whispered into her ear. She didn’t even know if she would describe his words as dirty talk. He told her she was incredible, how he loved her voice and the way she held onto him. Sentences that wouldn’t be considered lewd in any other context, but there was something so obscenely wonderful about being called beautiful while he fucked her hard and deep.

Abigail wished her mind wouldn’t have gone there, but she couldn’t help but think back to the narrative many Dethklok fans invented for her. Some heartless succubus who destroyed the minds of innocent men with her sexuality. It was silly and removed from reality, but there was also something kind of sexy about it. She met Magnus Hammersmith in a gas station parking lot that day and now he was pounding her into his mattress. Yeah, fuck you, Dethklok fans.

She wanted to chase this feeling and she unclenched her hand from Magnus’ shoulder and pushed her palm against his chest.

Magnus immediately slowed his motions.

“Everything good?”

“I want to get on top.” Her voice was raspy as if she had been screaming, which she might have been, who knows.

Magnus grinned feralily and slid out of her before rolling onto his back.

Abigail positioned her knees on either side of his hips and reached down to grip his slick cock. She locked eyes with him and squeezed his shaft, reveling in the way he tossed his head back with a groan and bucked his hips into her hand. Seeing him this defenceless and shameless about his pleasure sent sparks of arousal coursing through her body.

She inhaled sharply through her teeth as she sank down onto his erection. Even though he was in her just moments ago, she still had to adjust to him. His hands went for her ass, not to impale her down on his cock, thankfully, but rather to caress and squeeze her curves.

“Oh shit,” she gasped as she took him all in. She braced her hands on his chest, digging her nails into his flesh.

Magnus thrust up into her, causing another cry to tumble out of her throat. He removed her hands from his chest and brought them closer to his face, kissing along her palms and fingers. An oddly tender action from him, but then he placed her hands to his throat.

“Magnus?”

“You wanna choke me?” His tone and sidelong grin daring her.

The rhythm of Abigail’s hips faltered as she took a moment to consider her options. On one hand, she hadn’t done anything more extreme than the one time she tried using a blindfold. Was she really the kind of person who was into breathplay? She didn’t think so. Although just earlier that day, Abigail would have insisted that she was not the type of person to fuck some guy she’d met that day, and there she was. And besides, she was exploring the sexy, confident, succubus-like Abigail. Maybe _that_ Abigail choked guys she’d just met while she fucked them.

And so, Abigail placed her hands around his throat. Even though she wouldn’t consider it “her thing”, she could admit she did like the way she could feel his pulse rising, or his throat muscles moving every time he swallowed. It made her feel powerful, like she could experience him in a way no one else could. More than ever, he was vulnerable under her touch.

She squeezed and Magnus gasped. At first, she thought it was because she was doing such a good job, but then he began frantically tapping her forearm.

“The _sides!”_ He wheezed. “Squeeze the sides!”

“Sorry!” Abigail snapped her hands away. 

She sat back on his dick while she waited for him to stop coughing and so he could catch his breath.

“You’re good,” Although his voice was still raspy. “Another time, maybe.”

“Yeah.” The succubus side of Abigail’s sexuality would have to wait. “Are you okay?”

He nodded.

“Yeah, I’m fine. We should have warmed up to that.” He reached up to trail a hand from the side of her face down to one of her breasts. He squeezed it lightly and flicked her nipple under his thumb. “Please, continue.”

Abigail laughed and leaned down to kiss him. He moaned openly into the kiss when she resumed riding him. It took a moment for her to find her rhythm again, but soon she didn’t have to think about it. She broke off the kiss and pressed her forehead against his as she moved her hips faster.

She whimpered into his neck as she pushed her hand between them so she could rub her clit. The added sensations only spurred her on faster. Beneath her, Magnus was writhing in the sheets.

Once again, her mind went back to that same place. She didn’t legitimately believe that she could destroy the economy with her sexuality, but she wanted to believe that she could fuck so good that people would be willing to destroy the economy for her.

“Tell me how much you wanted me.” She panted into Magnus’ ear.

She felt him shudder against her body.

“I’ve wanted you, for so long.” He started babbling. “I’ve been thinking about you all night. You’re amazing, you’re fucking sexy, oh fuck, you feel so fucking good.”

Shit, he was saying everything she wanted to hear. She kissed down his neck, letting her teeth graze against his collarbone, eliciting a sharp hiss and a buck of his hips.

“You’ve been thinking about me?” She whispered into his skin. “Were you thinking about fucking me when we were in my car? When we were on the sofa?”

Magnus wrapped his arms around her, pinning her against him.

“Yes.” His nails dug into her back. “Oh god, yes. I wanted to fuck you so badly.”

Abigail moved her hips and fingers faster as she pressed an open mouthed kiss to his chest.

“I couldn’t sleep because I was thinking of you. I almost started touching myself in your bed.” She admitted in a breathy whisper. “Do you feel what you’ve done to me?”

Magnus tossed his head back and let out a choked groan. He bucked harder into her, grinding her hips down against his, and then sagged back against the mattress.

Abigail sat up and squeezed around him experimentally. He shuddered, but barely responded beyond that. His head was thrown to the side, his curls strewn over his face.

“Did you-”

“Yeah.”

Abigail tried to bite back the disappointment. Slowly she raised her hips, allowing him to slip free, and knelt on the other side of the bed. Did she really...did she really get off to her internet hate? God, what was wrong with her? But the worst part was, she still didn’t get to come, leaving her in a weird limbo state of feeling both ashamed from her fantasy, and still fucking horny.

Magnus pushed himself up, avoiding her gaze as he rolled the condom off. Abigail didn’t watch him dispose of it. She just continued kneeling on the bed as she heard the bathroom door shut. She should probably go clean up, right? When Magnus came out, of course. Which meant she had time to get herself off. She groaned in frustration. After how intense her encounter with him had been, she didn’t expect him to leave her hanging like this. The idea of finishing the job herself felt like a major downgrade.

The door opened and Magnus stepped back in, tying his hair back in a knot.

“I checked the condom. We’re good.”

“That’s good.” Although, it was hard for Abigail to think about anything other than her throbbing pussy.

Magnus placed a knee on the bed and patted the mattress in front of him.

“Lie down.”

“Oh.” Her face flushed when she realized what he was asking. She bit her lip as she scooted further down on the bed and reclined back.

Magnus parted her knees and smoothed his hands up her legs.

“You’re going to be taken care of,” he pressed a kiss to the soft skin of her inner thigh. “Just relax.”

Abigail nodded breathlessly and let her head rest against the pillow. Turns out, relaxing was not going to be easy, not as Magnus continued moving his lips down her thigh, occasionally grazing her with his teeth in a way that caused her to jump and buck her hips.

“Beautiful,” he whispered into her skin, before pressing a gentle kiss to the front of her pussy.

“O-oh,” she stammered. “You’re really gonna-- okay.”

Magnus was mindful enough to gradually ease her back into it, but it didn’t take long for her to get right back to where she was before. The first light suction against her clit caused her to gasp and arch away from the bed.

“Oh fuck--! Magnus, I--hah, oh, that’s...yeah. That’s really good.”

He hummed against her and her moans only increased in volume. He ate her out with all of the primal sensations she experienced when he kissed her. Since he had his hair tied back, she couldn’t grip his curls as easily. But she could clamp her thighs around his head, pushing him closer to her center.

When she felt two fingers slip inside her body, she writhed against him, pulling him in deeper. Even beyond the physical sensations, being able to sense how _focused_ he was on her was enough to send her mind into disarray. Even as her movements became more violent, even as the sounds coming out of her throat sounded less like those from a porn star and more like she was lifting weights, she still felt like he was worshiping her with his mouth.

“Magnus-!,” She choked out, her hands twisting in the sheets. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh my god.”

“Are you going to come?” He murmured against her.

“Y-yeah,” she managed to force out before another whine escaped from her throat. She threw her head back, crossing her ankles over him as she forced his face against her body. She clung to him, jolting against his lips as she chased that sensation that was slowly building inside her.

Her orgasm was a slow burn, the kind she would have expected to receive after all this extended build up. She felt it creeping up on her after a rather strategic roll of Magnus’ tongue. She went silent, biting her lip as the feeling kept building. Then it crashed down around her as Abigail cried out, her words a mixture of Magnus’ name and some rather colorful profanity.

Abigail continued chasing that rush, grinding against him and chasing wave after wave until the sensation became all too overwhelming. 

She pushed him away with her foot, her movements now feeling sluggish and weak.

Magnus stood back and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You still with us?”

Abigail still had enough energy to chuckle into the pillow.

“Thanks.”

Magnus laughed and leaned over to kiss her lightly on the lips.

“Of course. Chivalry, and all that.”

Eventually Abigail managed to push herself out of bed so she could clean herself up in the bathroom, although her legs still felt wobbly. She wondered if it would be out of place for her to use his shower, but considering that she just had him nose-deep in her vagina, she figured it was fine.

After showering, she wrapped a towel around her chest and stepped back into the bedroom.

“You know, I was hoping that we used the same hair products.”

Magnus snickered.

“Sorry about that.”

He handed her a stack of clothes.

“Here. Thought you might want something comfortable to sleep in.”

“Oh,” she took the clothes from him. “Thank you, are you sure?”

Magnus shrugged,

“You need a good night’s sleep. Long trip ahead of you, and all.”

Oh, right. She’d somehow forgotten about that. She looked over the pile of clothes in her arms. The idea of leaving and possibly never seeing him again felt...odd. Ah, shit. Apparently her sexuality wasn’t as unattached and emotionless as she wanted. Either that, or he fucked her so good and she was bummed out because she would never experience that again.

Probably that.

Abigail changed into the clothes he leant her. The shirt was loose and baggy, making it ideal for pajamas. The pants were a bit tight in the hips, but they pooled around her ankles. It made her feel tiny and adorable.

Magnus returned to the living room, leaving Abigail alone in the bedroom. She flicked off the light and collapsed face-first into the bed. Probably not a good idea - the sheets still smelled like their fucking. She rolled onto her back and cocooned herself into the sheets, and she drifted off to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut warning.  
> Also Charles doesn't get paid enough.  
> Also also it's no longer shippy fun.

When Abigail woke up, it was a slow, drawn out process. It was the first time in years where she had not been woken up by her alarm, so she was allowed to drift in and out of consciousness. Eventually she managed to wake up for real, although she still didn’t hurry to get out of bed. Mainly because she knew her hair was a frizzy disaster and she was not looking forward to seeing that in the mirror. Why did she go to bed with damp hair last night?

 _Last night_. 

Abigail rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. She had to walk through the previous night’s events in her mind to make sure it actually happened. For all she knew, she fell asleep when she went to bed the first time and that was all just an incredibly vivid sex dream. But no, it actually happened. She was still wearing his clothes, after all.

She counted down from ten then forced herself to sit up. The way she could feel her hair sticking up around her head...yeah this was going to require some damage control.

Her feet found the floor and she crawled out of bed. Her jeans were still on the floor, as were her panties. She scooped them up in her arms, folding them into a bundle. Her hoodie was still in the living room, she remembered.

She tucked the bundle of clothes under her arm and left the room. The living room didn’t have blackout curtains, so she was able to see the small trails of sunlight tricking through the windows.

Magnus was sitting back on the sofa while using his laptop, his legs stretched out so he could prop his feet up on the crate. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a simple black t-shirt. Huh, apparently he did wear actual shirts.

“Good morning,” Abigail stepped into the room, trying to smooth her hair down to a manageable shape.

“Evening.”

“Evening?” Abigail was taken aback. “What time is it?”

“Almost 6:30.”

“You let me sleep that long?”

Magnus shrugged.

“You look like you needed a good night’s sleep, I didn’t want to disturb you.”

Abigail sighed. She hadn’t gotten a full night of sleep since the news about Dethklok broke. Her sleep schedule was probably fucked now, but at least she felt well-rested for the first time in a millennia.

“Can you pass me my hoodie? It’s on the floor by the sofa.”

“Sure thing.” Magnus placed his laptop on the seat beside him. He stood up with her sweater in hand, and his face broke into a grin when he saw her.

“Please do not comment on my hair.” She stopped him before he could say anything.

“You’re in good company, babe. I feel your pain.” He gestured to his own curls with his free hand as he handed her the hoodie. “You know, in the 80s, Pickles spent a lot of time and money to get his hair to look like that. Embrace it.”

Abigail laughed.

“You just don’t want me to use your conditioner.”

“I’m very particular about my brand, what can I say?” He leaned back against the kitchen counter. “By the way, I was thinking about ordering Thai food later, if you wanted to stick around.”

She probably needed to get back on the road at some point, but she wasn’t going to turn down takeout.

“Sure, sounds good.”

Magnus returned to the couch and Abigail sat down next to him. They sat in silence for a moment, with Magnus working away on his laptop and Abigail digging her phone out of her hoodie’s pocket and resisting the urge to turn it on. She wasn’t trying to peek at Magnus’ computer, but her curiosity got the better of her when she caught a glimpse of a familiar band logo on the screen.

“What are you doing?” She sat up straighter and scooted closer to him.

“Dethklok forums.” He angled his laptop towards her slightly so she could get a better look.

“...why?”

Magnus shrugged,

“I like to keep tabs on them. Also, it’s good for a laugh.”

“So…” Abigail stared at the screen, unable to make out anything in the small text. “You usually spend your evenings eating takeout and browsing Dethklok forums.”

“More or less. Oh, which reminds me,” He opened another tab and loaded up another forum page. “The fans’ opinion of you hasn’t changed much, but I might have been able to get them to stop looking for you in the real world.”

“Really?” Abigail peered over his shoulder. “How did you do that?”

“Well, I don’t want to alarm you, but some fans have been talking about trying to find you.” He scrolled through some posts, the contents of which caused Abigail’s stomach to twist into knots. “But I have a few sockpuppet accounts so I was able to convince them that you’re currently on a jet heading for Trinidad. It’s easier for lies to spread online if a bunch of voices are repeating the same thing - hence the sockpuppets.”

Abigail looked through the forum. Sure enough, Trinidad seemed to be the general consensus. Sure she knew that some of these accounts had to be from Magnus, but there was enough activity to indicate that they couldn’t _all_ be him. Even though it provided her a sense of relief that Toronto didn’t seem to be on anyone’s radars, the fact that so many people were this desperate to hunt her down...it didn’t feel great.

“Oh.” She sagged her shoulders. “You really did all of that for me?”

“It’s nothing, really. Dethklok fans are like piranhas: they’ll tear apart anything without thinking.” He smiled at her. “Hopefully you’ll be able to finish your trip with a clear mind.”

“Thank you, seriously.”

“You’re welcome.”

“But why Trinidad?”

“Well, it’s an island, so most fans will have a harder time getting there.” He pulled up another tab. “Also according to the stats, Dethklok’s reach isn’t as huge in Trinidad and Tobago. Don’t know why. But knowing that, it seems like the logical place for you to escape to. People seemed to believe me more when I brought up that fact.”

Abigail didn’t know if he looked this up before, or if he just had Dethklok’s numbers memorized by heart.

“I would love to be in Trinidad right now…”

Magnus laughed,

“Well, if you continue using Twitter, you’re going to have to pretend.”

Abigail grinned,

“So, lots of swimsuit shots, right?”

“Only if you plan on giving me your username.”

Abigail laughed and rested her forehead against his shoulder. Magnus didn’t complain, so she let herself rest there for a moment. She didn’t know how long the Trinidad lie would hold, but at least it was _something_. Something to give her the illusion of hope that she would be able to live her life without looking over her shoulder. At least until she made it to Toronto.

She sighed. She should probably text her mom and update her.

Abigail pulled away from Magnus and turned her phone on. Unfortunately, after sending the simple “Still on my way, just made a quick detour <3” text, Abigail instinctively opened her social media feed.

“Oh fuck off,” she grumbled.

Magnus looked over at her.

“Something wrong?”

“No, just…” She rubbed her forehead. “It’s just more of the same.”

Magnus set his laptop down so he could get a look at her feed, his body pressed against hers.

Her DMs have not improved since the previous night. A near endless scroll of threats to her career, her personal safety, her loved ones, not to mention all of the insulting names.

“Shit…” Magnus muttered under his breath.

“Logically, I know that most of these people aren’t going to actually do anything to me. But seeing it all like this…” She sighed and sagged against him. “And these are just the messages people send to me directly. It’s even worse when you just search my name.”

Magnus frowned,

“You do that a lot?”

“Oh like you never search your own name online.”

“...fair point.”

Abigail searched her own name to prove her point and sure enough her feed became flooded with inane, but still biting attacks on her character. They may not have been as pointed and deliberate as the DMs, but in a way it was almost more painful to see it out in the open. It was one thing to have someone tell you directly that they hated you. It was another thing altogether to feel like you were trapped in a room with thousands of people talking about how much they hated you.

“This is my life now.” She punctuated each word with another scroll of her thumb.

“They’re so fucking stupid.” Magnus shook his head. “What do they think is gonna happen? Dethklok will suddenly reform because enough people harrassed you online?”

“I don’t know. I want to find this funny, but I know what some Dethklok fans are capable of.” She continued scrolling. “Although, it seems like they’ve mostly taken to sending me Dethklok lyrics as threats, so they can’t be all that creative.”

“Oh no, I think I see an original work here.” Magnus leaned over her shoulder to draw attention to a specific status. “‘I want to mutalate Abigail Remeltindtdrinc’. Brilliant.”

Abigail somehow still had it in her to laugh.

“How did they get my last name right, but misspell ‘mutilate’?”

“The mind of a Dethklok fan is simple, but mysterious.”

Abigail snickered. On a primal level, she couldn’t help but revel in how cathartic it was to take some cheap shots at these people who have made her life a living hell.

“Oh! Here’s another one,” Abigail pointed to another status. “‘I can’t believe Dethklok broke up over Abigail Remeltindtdrinc. She’s not even hot’.”

Magnus laughed,

“They sure are rolling out the high-hitting criticisms, aren’t they?”

“Hey, I’d much rather have them coming after my appearance than my work. Like, listen to this one. ‘My cousin is in music and he said the engineering on the last album was shit. Why did they even hire Abigail Remeltindtdrinc?’.” She scoffed. “I wasn’t even the engineer on that album! Knubbler was, and he did _fine_.”

“I bet they don’t even know anything about music production or engineering. They just assume it’s bad because they think you had something to do with it.”

 _“Exactly!”_ Abigail groaned and slumped back against the sofa, but she continued to scroll. “I know this probably is unhealthy, but I can’t stop.”

“Well, I’m fine with continuing to make fun of Dethklok fans as long as you are.”

“Oh no, I don’t plan on stopping.” Abigail laughed and shook her head. “Did that guy really pull the ‘my cousin works in music’ line?”

“Yeah, I imagine the cousin lives in Canada with the girlfriend he also claims to have.”

“Maybe when I’m back home, I can find him and ask him to teach me about sound engineering.”

“Or you can ask one of these Dethklok fans. I’m sure they know what they’re talking about.”

“Oh, definitely. I mean, I did graduate from Berklee College of Music with a graduate degree in music production, but no I’m sure some rando, whose profile picture is him holding a sword his mom probably bought for him, can teach me a thing or two.”

Magnus laughed as he wrapped his arm around her waist and rested his head against her shoulder.

Abigail smiled and leaned her weight back against him.

“You know, I’ve never cuddled up next to a man while reading hate comments.”

She could feel his lips curve upwards into a smile when he pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

“First times for everything, huh?” He murmured against her skin.

Abigail was just about to kiss him back, when she was pulled out of the moment by something on her phone. That being, Charles Offdensen’s face suddenly appearing on her screen.

“What the fuck?” Abigail gasped. “He’s finally calling me back?”

Magnus’ face was pale and his eyes were wide as if he had just seen a ghost.

“You’re not going to take the call, are you?”

“I’ve been trying to get in touch with him for weeks now. If I don’t answer, he might think something’s up.” She hovered her thumb over the button to accept the call. “Besides, I still want answers.”

Magnus looked like he was about to say something, but she pressed her finger to his lips before he could get the words out and accepted the call.

“Hello?” She tried to keep her voice as level as possible, as if she hadn’t been clogging up his inbox for the past few weeks.

“Abigail? This is Charles Offdensen.”

Magnus squirmed under her touch, which only prompted her to press her finger harder to his lips.

“Mr. Offdensen, hello. It’s good to hear from you. How have you been?”

“I’m, uh, I’m managing...so to speak. How are you?”

“You’ve been on Twitter lately? Or anywhere online?”

“I…”

“Or on Crystal Mountain’s website? Or any music publication? Or walked down the street?”

“Abigail…”

“Because things have not been good. Which is why I’ve been trying to get in touch with you.”

She felt Magnus’ lips twist into a smile under her finger.

“I…” Offdensen sighed. “I’m sorry for everything you’ve been through - I truly am.”

He did sound genuine, although it was often hard to tell with him. Still, Abigail felt a small twinge of guilt for coming on so strong.

“Thank you.” She took a deep breath. “It’s just, everyone suddenly went silent. I know I haven’t worked with you or Dethklok for very long, but I hoped to have _someone_ in my corner, at least.”

“I understand and I wish I could have been there to support you, but please realize that I’ve been trying to do damage control myself. The rug was completely pulled out from under me at the dinner.”

Okay, the small twinge of guilt was growing into actual guilt.

“Offdensen, I--” Her voice caught in her throat when Magnus took her hand in his and began kissing down her palm. She cleared her throat and tried to continue sounding composed. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine this has been easy for anyone to deal with.”

“It’s only going to get worse if I don’t do anything.” His voice was weighed down by exhaustion. “I can’t divulge anything right now, but there’s something going on - something bigger than the band. Which is why I can’t allow them to remain broken up.”

Through her peripheral vision, Abigail saw Magnus roll his eyes before pressing his lips to her neck. She held her phone out at arm’s length so her shuddering breaths wouldn’t come through. Was he really going to...while she was talking to Offdensen? She knew it was wrong, but she was also thrilled to find out just how far they could go.

“I am not denying Dethklok’s cultural importance, or whatever you’re getting at. But I’m still getting attacked online.”

Over the line, she could hear Offdensen sigh wearingly.

“What do you want me to do, Abigail? If I use Dethklok’s power to silence people, that could just end up making things worse for you.”

“I know you’ve used Dethklok’s power to silence people for less egregious things.”

Magnus’ kissed her neck rougher as he began working his hand up her shirt. Abigail bit her lip so she wouldn’t gasp openly into the phone.

“Yes, but I imagine you _don’t_ want the general public to believe that you have the band’s power and influence in your pocket.”

“And what? So the best option is to leave me hanging like this? I’m not asking for much, I just, ah-!” Her voice broke into a squeak as Magnus lightly pinched her nipple.

“...Abigail?”

“I, uh,” Abigail’s face was burning hot, both from the physical sensations and from the embarrassment. But still, she continued to allow Magnus to work his way down her body, kissing up her stomach until he reached the nipple he’d pinched and teased it with his tongue. “...I just opened Twitter again. It’s not getting better.”

“Oh, I see.” He sighed again. “I imagine you don’t want my advice now, but I’d recommend that you stay off social media for now. Do you have a support system of people offline who can take care of you?”

“Uh…” Abigail looked down at Magnus, who moved off the sofa so he was kneeling in front of her. He winked as he began rolling her pants down her hips. “...something like that.”

“That’s good. If you do require legal assistance, I can refer you to some people who can help you. I wish I could help more, but unfortunately I can’t get involved directly.”

“Uh huh.” Honestly, Abigail was only half-paying attention, as she was more focused on watching Magnus kiss and nip up her inner thigh. When he finally worked his tongue across her slit, she nearly tore her lower lip open from biting it so hard.

“I’ve been trying to avoid the gossip mill myself,” Offdensen continued. “But I understand that you’re leaving for Trinidad. Smart move, you’ll be safer there.”

Magnus laughed against her. Softly, but the vibrations still sent shocks up her body.

“Y-yeah,” she choked out. “Just needed to get away from everything.”

“Again, I’m sorry that I couldn’t do more for you. I probably could have stopped it early on, but after the band broke up, I was unable to focus on anything else--”

“Fuck, man!” The words escaped from her throat as Magnus applied a delicious amount of suction to her clit. Then her body went cold when she realized what she had done.

“Uh, excuse me?”

“I-I wasn’t talking to you!” Abigail looked down at Magnus, who pulled back from her, looking equally stunned.

Offdensen was quiet for an unnerving amount of time.

“Abigail is there someone else in the room with you?”

“What? No-”

“Because I’d prefer to have this conversation without other parties present.”

“There’s no one else in the room. I was just talking to…” Abigail’s mind raced. “My pet, uh, ferret.”

From between her legs, Magnus mouthed _what the fuck?_ Abigail pressed her finger to her lips to signal him to keep silent.

“You have a ferret?” Thankfully, he didn’t sound like he didn’t believe her.

“Yeah. His name is, uh, Ferris. He’s very cute and great for emotional support. I got him at a shelter.” Shit, she was rambling. This is why she hated lying under pressure. “Anyway, he jumped on me and I got startled. Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay, I’m glad you have a companion through this.” Another pause. “...I like ferrets.”

“They’re pretty great. All the fun of a cat in the portability of a snake.”

“Uh huh…”

Magnus had his head in his hands.

“Anyway, I should go take care of him now. He gets whiny if I ignore him for too long.”

Magnus glared up at her and she just smiled and winked.

“I’ll let you go then. Again, I’m sorry I couldn’t do more to help.”

“It’s okay, I understand you’ve been busy.” Abigail said as she began absentmindedly playing with Magnus’ hair.

“Try to stay off social media. And, uh, stay safe.”

“Thanks, you too.”

“We’ll be in touch.”

Abigail waited for Offdensen to end the call before she sighed in relief, collapsing back against the sofa and letting the phone slip from her hands.

Magnus propped his arms against her bare thigh and looked up at her.

“A _ferret?”_

“What? I panicked.” She grinned and reached down to continue toying with his hair. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”

He chuckled and smoothed his hand across her inner thigh.

“It’s been known to come up.” He gestured to her phone on the sofa. “Was that a recent photo of Charles?”

“Yeah? Why?”

“I just can’t believe that my hair started going gray before his.”

She snickered and pulled him up by the shoulders so she could kiss him. Her body trembled as he worked his hands up her shirt before pulling it over her head and discarding it on the floor somewhere.

“So,” she mused as she began tugging at his own shirt. “You couldn’t control yourself for one phone call?”

He grinned and pressed his lips to her neck.

“What can I say? Watching you chew out my old manager _really_ did it for me.”

She rolled her eyes,

“I didn’t _chew out_ Offdensen.”

“If you say so.”

Magnus threw his shirt to the side and pressed her body tightly against his. She squeaked initially when she felt her tits squish against his bony chest. She shifted under him so she could get more comfortable, and wrapped her arms and legs around his torso, sighing contently.

As she ran her hands across his skin, tracing the bumps of his spine with her fingers, a surge of confidence overcame her. She tightened her thighs around his hips and flipped their positions so he was sitting on the sofa with her in his lap.

“Okay,” Magnus said, already a little breathless. “I like where this is going.”

Abigail laughed and pulled him into a rough kiss, moaning as he worked his hands through her hair. She moved down his body, peppering kisses down the expanse of his bare chest. Magnus adjusted his position on the couch, continuing to toy with a few strands of her curly hair.

She reveled in the way his breath hitched and his fingers clenched in her hair when she palmed the front of his jeans. Slowly, she unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down just low enough to expose his sharp hip bones and the trail of course dark hair.

“Abigail…” he said in an exhale, as if he didn’t consciously say her name, but rather it escaped from him.

She pulled his pants down, revealing his cock lying half-hard against his thigh. She took him in her hand, languidly moving up and down the shaft as she watched his face.

“Oh fuck,” he rasped, leaning his head back against the sofa.

She grinned and swiped her thumb over the head, eliciting a sharp inhale from Magnus. After the phone call, it felt good to see him look so vulnerable under her. She swirled her tongue around the head before slipping it into her mouth.

Beneath her, Magnus tilted his hips up and tangled his fingers in her hair.

“Holy shit,” he bit off a groan. “Abigail…”

Abigail took him in deeper, running her tongue along his shaft before dipping into the slit. It was often hard for her to get in the right headspace to suck cock, but when she did she basked in it. The weight of his cock against her tongue, the way he consumed all of her senses, not to mention the intoxicating feeling of him writhing beneath her or whenever he failed to bite back his gasps and groans of pleasure.

He gathered her hair up in his hands and Abigail looked up at him with an expression that said “please don’t face-fuck me”. Fortunately he seemed to interpret her gaze correctly, as he seemed to be more focused in holding her hair out of her face.

She continued working her mouth up and down his shaft, wrapping her hand around the area she couldn’t quite fit inside. Even though she was definitely in the right headspace to suck a cock, she was definitely not in the right headspace to try deepthroating for the first time.

“Oh fuck, right there,” he gasped out when she tongued the underside of his cock. “That’s it…”

Abigail hollowed out her cheeks and locked eyes with him before repeating the motion.

“Shit!” Magnus groaned then laughed breathlessly. “Holy fuck, if only they could see me now…”

Something snapped inside Abigail and the headspace she was in shattered like glass. She pulled back, leaving his penis spit-slick and twitching.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Huh?” Magnus propped himself up on his elbows, still dazed by arousal. “What do you mean?”

“What you just said, ‘if only they could see me now’. What was that about?”

“You know…” Magnus rubbed his forehead. “It’s like, the band broke up because they wanted to fuck you, and I ended up fucking you instead. It’s kind of perfect.”

Abigail sat back, her body cold and a sinking feeling rising in her chest.

“So that’s…” her voice trembled. “That’s what this was about. You actually believe Dethklok broke up because of me?”

“What?” Magnus sat up, positioning his legs so his still-erect cock was out of view. “I never said that.”

“But you still see fucking me as a way to ‘get back’ at your old band.”

“Abigail…” Magnus sighed and raked his fingers through his hair.

“If I’m wrong, tell me.”

Magnus didn’t speak. As each second of silence passed, the sinking feeling in Abigail’s chest grew larger until she wished she could disappear into the floor. Suddenly, she became intensely aware that she was still naked. Not in a relaxing way, which she previously felt when she was naked around Magnus. Now she felt...gross.

Abigail got off the sofa and began gathering her clothes from the floor.

“Abigail…”

“What?” She snapped.

Magnus faltered.

“I’m just a bit confused. Did you...did you want something more from this? From me?”

Abigail groaned as she grabbed her phone and pulled her hoodie over her head.

“It’s one thing to have no-strings-attached sex. It’s another to be someone’s rebound. Maybe, I don’t want you to fuck your bitterness towards your old band into me!”

“Oh,” Magnus scoffed. “So you also weren’t working through your own issues with Dethklok?”

“At least I didn’t talk about wishing they could see me get fucked. That’s creepy!” She sighed as she pulled her jeans up. “What am I doing?”

“That’s up to you.” Magnus folded his hands in his lap, keeping his gaze fixed to the ground. “But we both know the band for what they are. If we stick together-”

“Can you stop thinking about Dethklok for ten minutes?” Abigail snapped. “You spend all day on their forums! You know their stats! You spend so much mental energy thinking about Dethklok that you can’t even get your dick sucked without your mind going back to them. It’s time to move on!”

The moment the words exploded out of her, Abigail couldn’t help but think about the previous night, when she thought about her own online hate as they were having sex. Or how cathartic it felt to scroll through her Twitter feed and point out all of the stupid people throwing abuse her way. It was addictive in a way that she could totally understand how someone could let their life get consumed by that bitterness. All the more reason why she had to get out.

Magnus stood up and pulled his pants back on, thankfully saving Abigail from the awkward experience of arguing with someone who had his dick hanging out.

“You don’t know my situation.” He spoke at last, his voice chillingly stern.

“Then enlighten me.” Abigail crossed her arms. “Who are you when you’re not ‘plotting your revenge’ against Dethklok?”

Magnus’ lips twitched.

“Would you actually care if I told you?”

“Maybe, maybe not. But more importantly, you need to hear it from yourself.”

Magnus glanced to the side.

“I’ve been living under Dethklok’s shadow for so long that there’s nothing else beneath the surface.” He looked back at her. “This is what the band does to people.”

“No, fuck that. It’s what you do to yourself.” She sagged her shoulders and sighed. “And I need to get out of here before I catch your mindset.”

She knelt down to tug her socks on, all while Magnus stared at her, dumbfounded.

“Wait, you’re actually leaving?”

“Yeah. Long trip ahead and all.”

“Abigail,” Magnus sighed. “Look, that was fucked up of me to say. I’m sorry. Genuinely, I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Abigail said smoothly as she stood up. “But I had to leave at some point. Now’s as good a time as any.”

Magnus turned his head away from her, but she could still see the look of hurt growing on his face.

“Okay.” His voice was deliberately level. “Drive safe.”

Abigail nodded, knowing she wouldn’t be able to keep her composure if she actually used her voice. She headed for the door and tugged her sneakers back on when she heard Magnus speak up again.

“Wait. Just one thing.”

She probably should have ignored him, but she decided to hear him out.

Magnus cautiously walked closer to her, as if he were approaching a dangerous animal, and handed her a paperback book.

 _“Oms en série?”_ Abigail frowned as she read the title.

“It’s the book the movie was based on.” Magnus kept his gaze away from her. “I want you to have it.”

Abigail sighed, already preparing to hand the book back.

“Magnus, I can’t read French-”

“Still.” Now he was looking into her eyes. “You should take it.”

Abigail was not in the mood for another argument, and the act seemed innocuous enough.

“Fine.” She tucked the book under her arm.

Even though it was just a science fiction novel in a language neither of them could read, Magnus relaxed visibly when she accepted it.

“Thank you.” He sighed. “I hope things get better for you.”

Abigail nodded.

“Same for you.”

And with that, she left.


	7. Chapter 7

The rest of the drive was a blur as she just focused on getting home. Fortunately, people didn’t seem to pay her much mind when they saw her. She had her hair tied back in a messy bun and she was still wearing her frumpy sweater, so she looked nothing like the composed, professional headshots of her that were everywhere online. Maybe the hate mob was finally dying down too, or perhaps Magnus’ Trinidad lie was actually working better than intended.

Shit, she really had to stop thinking about him.

Leaving his apartment caused a strange type of heartbreak to occupy her mind. Part of her wanted to stay with him, to spend the rest of her life wearing pajamas and shit-talking her old clients online. But because she knew how easy it would be for her to fall into that lifestyle, she knew she had to pull the ripcord out of there. She only wished she could take Magnus out of that mindset with her.

No, she was done being associated with Dethklok. She was not going to let herself become a shadow of the band. It might be too late for Magnus, but not her.

When she got closer to her neighborhood, she pulled over so she could check her texts. At least the spam filter was working as intended. The notifications showed one text from her mother:

_“You can come in through the garage if I’m not home. The passcode is Grandma’s birthday. I love you, Abbie. Stay safe.”_

Abigail felt tears well up in her eyes. It was so simple, but it was exactly what she needed. A reminder that the world outside Dethklok existed.

She pulled into the driveway and entered the home through the garage as instructed. Her home. Her childhood home. It felt like entering a time capsule. The same smells she grew up with, the same interior design that never aged past the mid-70s. Back in her apartment, she resented the urge to move back in. But now that she was standing in her old living room, staring at the framed childhood photos on the wall as her feet sank into the shag carpet, there was no place in the world where she’d rather be.

Her old bedroom was the only area of the house that looked different. Everything of hers was packed up or sold when she left for university, so now it was being used for storage. The stacks of boxes were pushed to the side to make room for the air mattress that was set up in the center. She abandoned her suitcase near the door and let herself sink into the mattress.

The book was still in her hoodie pocket.

She grumbled as she reached for it and fished it out. As long as she didn’t have internet access, she might as well brush up on her French.

The moment she flipped open the thin yellowed pages, something slipped out and landed on her chest. A note. Abigail sat up and unfolded the scrap of torn-out notebook paper.

_You’re not alone in this. I promise, there are other people like us._

There was a phone number and an address scribbled near the bottom of the note. Abigail frowned - the address was definitely not for Magnus’ apartment.

Through the corner of her eye, Abigail saw her phone light up with an incoming call.

Offdensen.

Abigail let her gaze drift back and forth between her phone and the note in her hand.

She declined the call.

And she threw away the note.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! :D


End file.
